Counting Stars
by raynperdition
Summary: College is more than Loki bargained for when Anthony Stark gets curious about the sullen, dark teenager. Avenger, college AU. Eventual FrostIron. WARNING: Triggering. Mentions of self-harm, alcohol, some drug use, prescription drug abuse, eating disorders and all manner of sensitive issues. Do not read if this will be detrimental to you, please. Part I of the Supernova series.
1. Chapter 1- Counting Stars

**Hi, guys! This is my first fanfiction. I hope you like it! The title is a song by Sugarcult. You should totally listen to it, it may make an appearance in later chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff. It all belongs to Marvel or Stan Lee or some corporate somebody.**

**Please review! I write better when I get feedback :)**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. There will probably be FrostIron (Loki/Tony action) in the future. If you don't like, don't get too attached lol.**

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He looked up through an Adderalll-alcohol haze into dark eyes under furious eyebrows. Green eyes, if he remembered correctly. They made his spinning mind work faster. Shoving back the thick brown bangs that had flopped into his eyes when he fell, he pasted on his million-dollar, Stark Industries protege smile and directed it at the vicious, almost feral teen peering down at him.

"Hey, Frosty, wanna help me up? You know, since you're the one who put me down here on my ass?" He was proud that his words didn't slur. He was getting better at handling himself when he was inebriated.

"No." The simple, singular, lonely word sounded like it contained enough venom to kill a thousand men instead of it's one intended victim.

Muttering grumpily under his breath- because, as usual, the dark teen had a souring effect on his usual drugged up cheeriness- he stood to his feet and stretched. As per their almost bi-weekly routine, the tall, thin, green-eyed, feline teenager just watched him with one perfect black eyebrow arched in a way that was becoming almost endearing to Tony. Mostly, though, his racing mind was sprinting to the side of morbid curiosity. Sure, anything he wanted to know, he merely had to ask the boy's mountain of a brother, Thor. But, to be honest, Tony wasn't sure whether or not he should be scared of the blonde brute.

"Good day, Stark." The glacier- okay, he was more the size of an icicle- growled- could you be _human_ for a moment, Tony wants your attention, dude- and started to walk away.

"Wait! I'll walk you." He grinned and strolled over to the rigid boy.

A lightning storm seemed to be erupting in Odinson's emerald eyes. "You'll do no such thing." He spit, venom sweeping through his enchanting voice. Tony couldn't help but think it was a shame he was so acerbic, he actually could've been a cool guy- not that he knew a damned thing about the nineteen year old college student.

"Aw, c'mon, Lo-Lo." The brown-haired teen whined.

Fact 1: Tony knew Loki hated his personal nickname for him.

"Oh my _god_. Stark, _I don't like you._" Yeah, because he _couldn't_ tell that you'd been trying to stab him with your eyes, Loki.

"Really? But everyone just _looooooves_ me, honeybun." Tony cooed, his alcohol-tainted blood getting the better of him, and winked. Yes, _winked._

"Goodbye, Stark." The young man sounded defeated and exhausted.

"Bye, Lo-Lo." Tony murmured, watching the other, paler, taller, thinner, and possibly even more damaged young man stride across the campus grounds.

He shoved a hand back through his unruly brown locks. The kid was just too interesting for his own damn good, because Anthony Stark- genius, progeny, teenage millionaire, inventor, and physics, mechanics, and chemistry major, not to mention notorious ladies man- was not going anywhere until he found out every last detail there was to know about Loki Odinson.


	2. Chapter 2- Swords & Pens

Alrighty, kids, we gotta talk before we start this chapter. It's triggering. For anyone who self-harms. I warn you ahead of time, there is some talk of past self-harm. I really, really, really advise you not to read this chapter if you have an issue with that. And to anyone out there who self-harms or deals with depression or is sad -MEGA HUGS- I love you all. Okay? 3

Oh, and I don't own any of the characters, they're property of Marvel, etc., etc..

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Tony sighed. Why was it fucking Sunday already? He tugged on the collar of his dress shirt for probably the umpteenth time and glanced at the clock. Dear God, time moved _so slow._ And really, it wasn't even necessary that he _be_ here for these things, he just stood in a corner and drank himself numb while his father dragged less-than-interesting bureaucrats to shake his hand and listen as Howie lauded his only child's accomplishments. -barf-

His father was headed his way, this time with a frankly mountainous older man who had white hair and a god damn eye patch- _eye patch_, for fuck's sake- when Tony caught a glimpse of a red head in the crowd. Pepper! His hangover-slash-shitty-life-cure-in-heels. Also, his father's secretary and his own self-proclaimed personal assistant.

The pair of old men were by his side and his father was droning through introductions, but Tony _didn't_ care and wasn't really listening- how could he over the massive amount of booze buzzing in his brain- when something caught his attention.

"Wait. What?" His eyes snapped back to the two men. Brown eyes identical to his own glared at him wrathfully for being rude. _Yeah_, like he was ever anything but. -snort-

A hand shoved towards him. "Senator Odinson."

Tony almost choked on his own tongue. Frosty's dad. _Loki's dad._

"H-hi." He stuttered over the singular syllable. What was wrong with him? Why was this-this _boy_ impacting him so strongly? He was just some college student Tony had bumped into one day and now he was fucking _curious._ He needed another drink. Maybe something stronger- and anything stronger would have been nearing _toxic_. Maybe he should see if he could get Loki to go out for- oh. Would ya look at that, he totally tuned out the man talking at him. What a surprise.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" He asked, again. It felt like his Stark patented smile was going to start _oozing_ actual charm. He wondered for a second if that was actually possible...

_'Focus, dammit!'_

"You go to the same college as my son, Thor. He's the star quarterback on the football team." The big man flashed a smile that vaguely reminded Tony of the blonde brute.

"Uh. Yeah. Not a big fan of...sports. Hey, isn't Loki Odinson your kid?" He could feel his brown eyebrows pushing low over his likely hazy caramel eyes. His mind was chewing on the Thor comment and how the man _hadn't _ even _mentioned_ Loki. Yep, he was definitely filing that away for further analyzing later.

_'Later, Tony. In other words, __**not**_** now.**_'_

The man scowled- merely for a split second, but Tony's sharp eyes caught it nonetheless- then his face turned to marble. "Yes. He's studying...art. Or literature or something." He looked away, gazing across the crowd. Howard shot Tony a stabbing glare- which Tony ignored, because he's _Tony, _duh- a warning that he better stop fucking around and impress this man. Shmooze charm up about ten thousand indifferent notches.

"So, how's Thor's quarterback thing going?" Tony smiled- fake, as if anyone would notice- and _pretended_ to listen. It was his gift, the talent of looking very interested while internally his mind was sprinting through the details of some new tech toy he was going to construct.

The man was off like a racehorse on race day. Filling Tony in on all the minor details of his darling eldest.

"_Thank you_, Pep." He murmured gratefully to the red-head as she led him away from Howard and his cronies. "You're my night in shining armor." He winked as he stumbled along beside her.

"You're slurring. If i waited much longer, you would have puked on someone's Louboutin's." She chided, scowling softly. But there was no real anger or irritation in her blue eyes. It was just an act. The woman _adored_ him, and, like most, he had her wrapped around his finger.

He sniggered. "You shoulda waited 'til I did. That would've livened up this _DEAD PARTY_!" He yelled at some businessman he was fairly sure worked closely with his father on a frequent basis. Well, he looked familiar anyways.

"Sit. Drink." She shoved him into a chair at the small kitchen table and shoved some water at him.

He looked at the water in his hand and sighed heavily. "What would I do without you, Miss Potts?" There was a sad sobriety to his voice that he hadn't the state of mind to mask. The alcohol was working him over good tonight. Maybe it was just the insane volume he had swallowed in such a short time that made him a little more _chatty_.

The idea suddenly occurred to his ever-whirring mind that, without Pepper Potts, he would be even more of a royal, bratty, rich wreck than he was now. He _would_ be upchucking on Louboutin's and making a complete ass of himself all over the place. Not to mention, his hangovers would be far more miserable without the woman pouring water and Tylenol down his throat. If it weren't for Pepper, Tony would be very much _alone_. She was all he had. Despite the plethora of people just ready to murder to be his friend because he was rich and famous. Sometimes the perks weren't worth it.

"Drink." She glared at him sternly.

He smiled, appreciating her knack for avoiding what could potentially have been an awkward moment. "So, there's this guy at school. Loki." He fidgeted. "I just met his dad." He snapped his fingers nervously, a habit he had developed at a very young age.

Pepper sat opposite him at the table, a mug of warm tea in her hands. She raised an eyebrow when he didn't keep talking in his usual everlasting ramble. "Go on."

"Well, okay. His dad didn't even mention him. He brought up his older brother, some quarterback guy. I mean, Thor is okay. He's even...cheery. But, the guy was like _favoring_ Thor- and I know it's none of _my_ business and I don't even _have_ siblings, for fuck's sake- but , that's gotta be rough as hell. His dad and Howard are two of a kind. I wonder if they're working together? Maybe that's why Howie looked ready to stroke when I asked about Loki. Maybe he knows more about Loki. I should ask him. Get a couple scotches in him and-"

"_Tony_." Pepper sounded exasperated, and he swore Loki sounded just like her when he was looking down his pretty little nose at Tony. Hmm.

"What?" He only sounded a little bit like he wasn't paying the teensiest bit of attention to Pepper. Just a little. Promise.

Really, his mind was still going at about a thousand miles an hour- as usual- and he wasn't even looking at the red-head. The boy he couldn't get his mind off of the past few weeks was making his inebriated mind spin like a carousel on speed. Adderall did nothing to slow down this fast, crazed thought process. Most nights, he couldn't sleep because of it. Nothing entertained him, and he was starting to resort to a frankly alarming lifestyle just to get his brain to screech to a motherfucking _halt_. More and more he found himself doing things he never would have dreamed of, just because he wanted to have fun, be entertained, feel carefree and happy for once. And people were starting to worry. People like...Pepper.

"**_Anthony Edward_****_Stark!_**" She thundered, making him jump and very nearly let out an unmanly squeak._ Nearly_.

"_What_!" He glared, feeling a little offended. He wasn't drifting off any more than usual. Shouldn't she have gotten used to this by now?

She sighed and shook her head. "You have to stop with all the drinking. Did you take your medicine today?" Oh, yay. Another question about his medicine. _Everyone_ was a god damn doctor these days.

"I'm not answering that unless you put on a sexy nurse uniform." He smirked when she sighed and shook her head again. What was he if he wasn't the infamously infuriating Tony Stark?

* * *

Loki looked at himself in the mirror. He looked...eh. His hair was just not cooperating. And he wasn't even sure what the deal was. It wasn't as if he was seeing anyone special or anything. But recently, he had been looking in the mirror and wanting to cry more often than not. He was hideous. A monster. His hair was bushy and curly and he had gained some weight and there were dark circles under his eyes because he couldn't sleep and his nose was too pointy and-_and_-_**and**_.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. There was no need for him to get all worked up about this. Today was just a normal day. So, he stripped out of his nice shirt and form-fitting jeans and slipped on a loose, comfy sweater he had had for _eons_ and some sweat pants. He was just going to meet Clint for lunch and tutoring. No biggie. Not to mention he halfway hated the man, but who did he not hate these days? When had he turned into this misanthropic, bitter ass?

When he stripped his shirt off, his eyes landed on his wrist- and the dark scar that tainted his snowy skin. His teeth ripped into his bottom lip. He remembered the day that had been carved into his skin, by his own hand. A morning he didn't really want to remember, ever. But remember, he did. And it ran through his mind like a bad home-movie:

_"Thor, I swear to the gods, if we don't get home before Odin is awake, I'll kill you before he gets the chance to." Loki swore grumpily. The rum he had drunk really wasn't agreeing with him, and he utterly detested the feeling of not being fully in control of himself. Not to mention, Thor was a giant mass of happiness and awful singing beside him. Was there anything that could put him in a worse mood? Yes. The fact that they were going to get __**caught**__ because the Universe hated Loki, he just knew it._

_ "We won't get caught, brother! I've planned this all out perfectly. And if they awake, we can merely tell them we went for a stroll because the morning is nice and the air crisp. There is nothing to worry over." The blonde threw a big-blue-eyed beam of happiness his way. It was reflected off him like he was carrying a shield of bitter despair around with him for just such occasions._

_ Loki harrumphed and settled deep into his seat. Something bad was going to happen. Well, something bad other than getting nasty smelling alcohol dumped on his perfectly wonderful, cute clothes all night. He picked his shirt up off his stomach, sniffing it delicately. His nose wrinkled. Alcohol. It wreaked of alcohol. And he knew he was being irrationally pissy, but he couldn't help it. He hated parties, and this one had been especially bad since he had stood in a corner all night and downed booze like he actually wanted to be too drunk to walk- not far from the truth, actually- instead of enjoying himself like Thor had. Unfortunately, Thor had been born with a bright patch of sunshiny cheeriness following him around, whereas Loki got a hurricane of depression and misanthropy. The sun coming up over the horizon seemed to smile and flaunt this tidbit of well-known information before him. The scowl on his face got deeper._

_ They arrived home. Sneaking quietly inside behind his brother, he nearly collided with the teenage oaf before he realized the boy had stopped. More like, frozen. Peeking around one incredibly muscled bicep, he saw why: A very sleep-deprived Odin sitting at the table looking for all the world like he was going to rip their heads off and eat them for breakfast. Loki considered this a likely possibility. Maybe he had drank a little too much at the party. Alcohol really wasn't his thing. _

_ "Good morning, my sons." The man rumbled. Loki cringed. He sounded like he had been sitting at that table all night. The hurricane that was Loki's negative emotions picked up speed._

_ "Good morning, father." Thor sounded timid. Loki considered this to mean very, very bad things ahead for the two of them. Nothing intimidated Thor. For good reason._

_ "Hi." Loki murmured, still halfway hiding behind his brother. They were doomed. __**Doomed**__. They literally smelled like they had been swimming in booze all night- and really, it hadn't been far from it, Loki would __**never**__ get the stench out of his clothes._

_ Then Frigga breezed in, still dressed in her robe and her hair in curlers. Loki felt like crying. Frigga. His mother. The last person on earth he could take being disappointed in him. But she wasn't. She merely smiled and pulled her sons into a hug. _

_ Odin spoke up before his wife had even let the boys go. "I am very disappointed in you-" He started._

_ Frigga interrupted. "Not now, Odin. I'm going to get you boys some water and Tylenol. Then you're going straight to bed, do you understand? This can be dealt with later." She was coddling them. Odin's red face proved he wasn't having that._

_ He slammed his hand on the table, making Loki gasp and jump backwards, only to have a protectively comforting arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The mountain that was Thor was practically shielding him._

_ "You, are the troublemaker!" Odin pointed at him. "And you, are the eldest, and as such have a responsibility to set an example. If Loki wanted to take my car, you should have refused to go along and come to alert me." Odin snarled at Thor._

_ Loki felt something hot and angry boiling inside him. "Why is it always my fault?" He pulled out of Thor's ever-tightening embrace to square up to his father. "Why is it never Thor to blame? What's so terrible about me! All my life I've tried to please and placate you, Odin, but it's never enough! Never! No matter how many straight A's I get, or how hard I try to live up to your stringent standards, it's just not enough to win anything but your 'disappointment' in me." Loki felt his face grow warm with hot outrage. This had not been his idea, never was he the one to suggest they sneak out to parties or do something stupid that ultimately broke something in the house that was 'valuable' -even if Frigga insisted it wasn't a big deal- and yet it was always blamed on __**him**__._

_ "Because that's who you are, Loki. Disappointing and trouble." Odin looked down at him with his one eye. The eye patch was still in place from the night before. "No matter what stern measures I go to, you always insist on acting out. And I will not stand for it anymore." The man shot Frigga a pointed look. "You are both grounded until further notice. I need your phones and computers." He held out his hand for their cellphones._

_ But Loki was not willing to bend to his tyrannical father's wishes one more time. If he had been, maybe things would have gone he wasn't. "No." It was simply stated, with no rebellious tone. Maybe that's why Odin looked like he was about to fall out in shock._

_ By nature, Loki had a defiant streak. But he had always held it in check when it came to his parents. He was the good child, quiet, studious. There were no lengths he was unwilling to go to if it pleased them. But this was the last straw. He was not bowing down to anyone, certainly not a man who obviously disliked him strongly. _

_ "No?" Odin looked at him, shock keeping it's stance on his time-weathered face._

_ "Precisely. It's a two letter word, 'N' and 'O'. It's also negative, the opposite of 'yes', which is a positive word. Need I get out my dictionary for you? You know, the really nice one I won a few years ago in a national spelling bee?" The rebellion rose in his throat like bile. Or maybe he just needed to get rid of all the alcohol raging inside him like angry butterflies set on destroying the lining of his stomach._

_ Thor and Frigga were staring at him like he had grown two heads. It was a bit comical. What wasn't comical, was Odin's palm slapping across his face. Now, Loki had realized he was treading on dangerous territory by being disrespectful- his father had always been sensitive to defiance and had stamped it down at the very first sign. But to hit his son, that was a length Loki hadn't considered the man would go to. And, it seemed, neither had Odin. Frigga cried out, rushing to pull him into her arms and Thor was glaring at his father like his death was on the near horizons._

_ Loki tasted blood in his mouth, and licked his lip to feel a gushing cut. For a moment, shock numbed him. He just stood there in his mother's arms, staring at the floor in utter amazement. Then, he pushed out of his mother's arms and ran to his room. He slammed the door shut and locked it, leaning back against it and gasping for air although he had absolutely no reason to be breathless. Hysterically, he realized he had been right: Something bad __**had**__ happened. _

_ Then the hurricane whipped around him and he sunk to the floor, sobbing almost pitifully. Thor was already banging on his door, begging him to let him in. It probably would have been best to let his older brother in, Thor was always ready to comfort him or let the smaller boy weep on his t-shirt, only to later rub his runny nose on a sleeve. But that was the thing with Thor, he didn't care if his brother used him as a tissue, he wanted to be there for the darker teenager. And he always was, without fail. _

_ But right now, Loki didn't want that. He didn't want to be comforted. He wanted the tears to dry up and he wanted bitter coldness to settle in. He wanted to hate Odin. In his mind, there was no other way to get through the next two years without going insane or throwing back a bottle of pills. So, he did something slightly less fatal. Something a close friend of his had just revealed to him that she did when she was upset. _

_ Still crying hard, he rummaged through his closet, his mind frantic and his heart thumping and he was out of breath again. Finally, he found the object he desired. A hunting knife his brother had given him. He had never used it. Opening it, he ran his thumb across the blade. A small line of crimson oozed slowly when he brought his finger back from the silver blade. He sniffled, entranced. Maybe it would help. If nothing else, maybe it would numb him to the flaming heartache inside his ribcage. _

_ Biting his lip, he placed the blade on his wrist and pushed. Drawing the blade across his wrist, he felt fresh tears from the sting, making the image of deep running red blurry. He did it again, the endorphins flooding his brain. This was stupid, dangerous even. And it made Loki cry harder and cringe with the pain. But Odin wasn't so dominate in his mind any longer. _

_ "LOKI!" His brother's sudden thundering voice made him jump, driving the blade deeper into his wrist. He yelped. _

_ Blood was falling off his wrist and sliding across his fingers in a dramatic display of a __**lot**__ of blood. It started dripping off his fingers as he ran to grab a towel and press it to his rended skin. But the volley of red wasn't stopping. Thor was about to break the door down. Frigga's soft voice was melding with his. He was scared and getting lightheaded. So he stumbled to the door and threw it open, shoving his wrist at his mother. _

_ She let out a startled gasp and took in his terrified expression all in exactly two seconds. Then she was dragging him to her bathroom and ordering Thor to get his father anywhere but in the house. Thor disappeared and Loki was enveloped in the warm security that his mother was going to make everything okay again. She sat him on the counter and quickly stitched and bandaged his arm like a professional. Then she made him some hot chocolate and bundled him up in bed. She sat with him and let him cry on her shoulder and tell her how sorry he was and how he didn't know what he was doing. _

_ But he wasn't so asleep as to not notice her take the hunting knife from his room with a white-knuckled grip. When she was gone, he broke down. Again. Crying silently to himself because he really __**did**__ know what he was doing and that frightened him. Sure, he had never meant to cut himself so severely, but did that matter? He looked at the bandaged appendage on the pillow in front of his face. Tears fell further when he admitted to himself and god that he was on the verge of doing something dangerous, intentionally. But how could he tell anyone that? He didn't want to be anymore of a burden..._

Loki wiped away a tear and washed his face again to wash away all semblance of emotion. Things were better now that he was living on campus. Away from his father and safe in his loneliness. It was safer, hating people and not really having any friends. He wasn't even as close to Thor anymore. They used to be joined at the hip, but now? Now they only spoke a few times a week and got dinner together whenever their schedules happened to be simultaneously free.

Ah, well. Now was not the time to brood. Loki prided himself on timeliness, and it was time to go teach an annoying teenage boy grammar.

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I'm so sorry if this chapter sucks. I wrote it at like 3 a.m.. AND THANK YOU FOR THE FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS 3 I so love seeing what you guys think of this. Like, I super-duper love it and it gives me the high of my life. Reviews are my cocaine.

P.S. Sorry for the lack of Tony/Loki-ness. That shall commence in the next chapter 3

Until next time ;)


	3. Chapter 3- Teenagers

**Hi guys! Okay, so I really hope you like this chapter (and yes, I do totally think it sucks). But, first off, thank you so, so, so,so,so much for the reviews and follows! Oh my gosh, seeing that totally makes my day! You have no idea! -INTERNET HUGS FOR ALL-**

Btw: I don't own Marvel or the characters or any of it really.

ENJOY! :)

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Loki sighed and looked at his brother with thinly-veiled disdain. They had three books spread out before them at the library, and really, Loki was trying to be patient. But patience is a virtue, and right now he's kind of running low on virtuousness. So, laying his head in the cradle of his palm, he let his older brother once again explain just _why_ Loki's explanation didn't make sense to him. Other than his own personal theory that Thor was just a blockheaded fool when it came to intellectual things...like _books_.

"You're just talking to fast. You do that a lot. And there's a lot of big words. And I'm not as smart as you are, brother." Thor gave him a puppy-dog look that rounded his blue eyes to the point it was almost comical. It was also very effective and worked like an utter charm. Why was he still susceptible to this?

Loki shoved his hair off his forehead and opened his mouth to speak. But he was interrupted by a body inserting itself into the chair next to him. He slid contemptuous green eyes over to encounter one Anthony Stark smiling at him as if he were the sunshine in his world. -barf-

"Hiya, Lo-Lo. Hey, Thor." Stark waved shyly at Thor. Loki almost laughed at the idea that the young inventor was scared of his big brother. But who wasn't, really? The man was huge. "So, what'cha doin'? Smart people stuff, huh?" The boy peered over his shoulder, his mouth moving at a thousand miles an hour. "Ooooh, Professor Coulson's chemistry class. That was fun. I had it last year, kind of unnecessary but hey, requirements are requirements. Steve took it too, I had to tutor him through like the first half of a semester because he didn't get jack shit. But anyways, Coulson gave him like straight A's through the _whole_ semester. And I'm not saying that I'm not a _fantastic_ tutor, because I am, but I think Coulson just had a little crush on ole Stevie-"

"My _god_, do you _ever _stop talking?" Loki interrupted, his eyes wide and his nerves ready to start screaming if Stark said one more word. He chose to ignore how Thor was staring at him with this look that just screamed '_Manners, Loki.'_ But Loki wasn't one for etiquette when Stark was around. Really, he'd rather jump off a cliff than speak to the rambling genius. -snort- _Genius_.

"Not really. Especially when I'm nervous. Which I'm totally not right now." The brunette looked away with just the teensiest red coloring his cheeks. "I even talk in my sleep, or that's what my roommate tells me." He shrugged, then turned his caramel eyes to Thor. "I met your dad on Sunday. He was at one of my dad's lets-get-drunk-and-trade-money shindigs." He sounded cautious. Loki felt every muscle suddenly hinge on this annoyance's next words.

When it came to his...acquaintances meeting Odin, Loki was very sensitive. His best friend had met Odin only once, and by accident, when the man had come over to check on his two sons. She had found him just an unsavory as he had, and she had read him easier than a book. Her exact words had been '_Pedantic, egomaniac with almost no people skills._' Loki had almost cried, finally someone who agreed with him. Well, someone other than Frigga, but she loved the man unconditionally. So, suffice to say, a lot of how he treated Stark over the next few years would depend on his feelings toward Odin.

While Loki was off in lala land, he didn't notice how the young man was studying him, as if looking for something in his reaction. "Was he drunk?" Thor's rumbling voice brought them both back to reality.

Stark laughed. "Ah, no. Um, he had a lot to say about you, Thor." The teenager looked suddenly uncomfortable. Loki felt his eyebrows looming low over his now-narrowed eyes.

"Such as?" He was happy with how his voice came out imperial and demanding. He almost sounded royal, and wasn't that perfect when dealing with some spoiled rich kid- never mind that he's just as spoiled and just as rich.

Stark started fidgeting like he was on crack. Loki thought he might go insane if he had to be around the maundering, ever-moving irritant much longer. It wasn't the first time he wished for a strong sedative today. "Well, he was talking about how he's the star...something on the football team. I really wasn't listening at that point. No offense, man." He smiled charmingly at Thor, who lit up like he hadn't been halfway insulted. Really, smiling at Thor pretty much erased any threat he might have conceivably once been. Loki believed the man was far too easily appeased, but that opinion did come from a man who held grudges for literal _decades _without batting one pretty little eyelash.

"And me? What did he say about me, Stark?" His voice was bordering on threatening. Which, wasn't exactly necessary, but he liked making the shorter teen squirm. Forget how those caramel eyes were starting to make his stomach flip.

Stark looked away. "He didn't really mention you, until I asked." There was a tense line in his neck that made Loki wonder what was running through his head. "But I mean, he said you were studying, uh, art or literature or something. I guess he was kind of on a Thor kick that night. I mean, I guess, he seemed, um." The boy looked down. "You know, I think I'm like, extraordinarily late for a meeting. Which isn't normally a big deal but my dad might actually kill me if I don't make this one. Or Pepper might, and that would be even-"

"Anthony." Loki spoke the name softly. Stark came to an abrupt halt in both his rambling and his standing. Loki looked up at him to see the boy beaming at him like he had just offered him a million dollars. "What?"

"You just said my name. For like the first time ever. Didn't you? Was I hallucinating? Shit. How many pills did I take this morning? Hey, what day is-"

"Shut. Up. Stark." Loki rubbed his temple gingerly, ignoring how his elder brother was laughing like he had just said the funniest thing since that time he had said 'ass' and Thor had nearly peed himself from laughing. They were four. Yes, that was the last time Loki said something so degrading as 'ass'.

Fact #2: Loki doesn't swear. Ever.

* * *

Tony smirked at the girl in the seat next to him in his dad's brand new car which he may or may not have just stolen. And really, he may or may not have been into the girl beside him. She was pretty, gorgeous maybe even. Long black curls slipped past her shoulder blades and her eyes were a jade shade which tugged on his subconscious annoyingly. It reminded him of someone, but he was too drunk to remember who. The road swung in front of him, and he twisted the wheel just a little too far. Police sirens sprang up behind him.

"Oh my god." The girl whispered, the hand on his thigh disappearing.

He snorted. "Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm Tony Stark." He winked at her, not even realizing how slurred his words were.

A policeman knocked on his window. He rolled the window down, and immediately knew he was screwed. "Good evening, Mr. Stark. How are you feeling?" A young man's face appeared in front of his face. God damn it. A rookie. The young ones were always a pain in the ass. And behind him, stood an old friend (cough_archenemy_cough) of Tony's. She was the reason Tony already had one DUI on his record from when he was sixteen.

"Why, Officer Hill. How pleasant to see you. And I'm feeling just fine." Damn. Shit. Fuck. He was screwed and Howard was _not_ going to be pleased. The man might even make him spend the night in jail. Ew.

"Have you been drinking tonight, Mr. Stark?" The young man asked. Maria Hill was just smiling softly at him, with that predatory look that every cat had while a mouse ran with its tail caught beneath her paw. Tony wasn't normally the mouse, and he had found he quite preferred it that way.

He shrugged. "Some coffee. Y'know, the really heavy duty stuff." A shit-eating grin found its way onto his face. "You gonna arrest me for illegal levels of caffeine consumption, Officer Hill?" He narrowed his eyes on her.

"Sir, would you mind stepping out of the car?" Tony sighed, turned to wink at the girl- what was her name again?- then got out of the car like it was the most bothersome thing he had ever done. "Is this your car, sir?" The young man narrowed his eyes at Tony.

He glared at the young officer. "It's my dad's. But, I asked for daddy's permission before going out for a spin." He smiled through clenched teeth, his sarcasm coming out more as contempt. What difference did it make if it was his or his dad's? Nobody had ever asked about the car before. Shit. Something wasn't right.

"Sir, are you aware that this car was reported as stolen an hour ago by the owner?" The rookie smirked. Oh, and it was just so hard for Tony to not take out the rage boiling in his veins by wiping that shitty little smile of his face. He wasn't normally violent, but something about his dad made him want to beat the shit out of something or someone.

"God damn son of a bitch. Maria, you know this is my dad's car." He looked at her darkly. She _knew_ he hadn't stolen a fucking thing.

"No, I don't. And you are drunk, Mr. Stark. I'd like you to take the breathalyzer test." She smiled at him grimly. "If you don't, you'll be arrested."

Shit.

* * *

Tony was glaring when the policeman came to let him out of his jail cell. He had been glaring all night, at every single person who walked by. He wondered now how many pictures of him getting arrested last night were on the internet? He sighed. More publicity. Bad publicity. Not that he really cared. But really, the perks of being rich almost didn't outweigh all this. He hadn't been able to screw shit up in peace his entire life.

Walking out of the station with Pepper, he was silent. That girl last night...he finally realized who she looked like. Shit. "Pepper, kill me?" He murmured, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders and leaning against her lazily.

"Not in a million years." She smiled brightly down at him. Then frowned. "Your dad on the other hand..."

He smiled manically. This was gonna be fun.

* * *

Loki glared at the test under his hands. He couldn't concentrate. That was saying something when normally the boy could read Socrates while his brother played some irritatingly loud xBox game beside him. But right now, there was far too much on his mind. Three things, in fact.

#1: His brother had twisted his ankle in practice. Normally, this didn't worry Loki, but he was being an especial worry-wart today.

#2: Frigga and Odin were taking both he and Thor out for dinner tonight. That was going to be fun. There wouldn't be as many Thor-themed questions to be asked now that the boy was on the bench for at least two more games.

#3: Anthony Stark was rumored to have spent the night in jail for drunk driving and stealing a car (reportedly, his father's car). Now, this really shouldn't have bothered Loki, but he was still curious about the man's reaction about his father.

All in all, Loki just wasn't having a spectacular day. He was looking a little rough, not having slept well last night. The dark circles under his eyes made him look _awful_ and as usual his horrendous hair was _not_ coping. And okay, considering the copious amounts of checking-out that girl was focusing on him, he wasn't looking as shabby as he felt. So, he forced himself to pay attention to his sorta kinda important test.

He had never felt so relieved to be dismissed from any one class. Barton trotted beside him, his short legs not able to keep up with Loki's strides. "How was your test?" The man smiled up at him cautiously.

Loki rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Barton?" He sounded so very weary, like he was dealing with a toddler. Not that that was far from the truth, honestly.

"Oh, I was just wondering if you had heard about Tony. He got arrested last night. Have you ever met his dad? He's a dick. Apparently, he said Tony stole his car." He spoke as if all of this was of great importance. Loki really didn't pay attention nor care about the college gossip- of which there was plenty about Stark. But the tidbit about Howard. That interested him.

"His father is an...unsavory person?" And no, he really couldn't bring himself to repeat Barton's name for the man. He wasn't going to use such words just because his acquaintance did. He wouldn't degrade himself to such a level.

Barton looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Uh, yeah. Don't you watch the news, man? Tony's spouted off publicly about him plenty of times. Lemme tell you, get enough booze in that kid, and ask him about his dad...you'll get more information than you bargained for. But hey, it's Tony. If he isn't talking too much, he's either dying or passed out." The shorter of the two shrugged. "That's what's great about him, he's his own entertainment, and man, does he know how to party. Oh, hi, Nat!" He winked at Loki and disappeared after his current crush, and Loki's best friend. He found it hard not to smirk, knowing there would soon be one very disappointed Clint Barton.

His mind chewed on what Clint had said, though. It also turned over the reasons why he might be so suddenly interested in Stark. It wasn't like he liked him. They had absolutely nothing in common, and he was the most nerve-grating creature Loki had ever met. But everything about Howard had piqued his interest. Of course, curiosity killed the cat.

* * *

Pepper dropped Tony off at his apartment with an affectionate, pitying smile. Tony _hated_ that smile. It was the smile that meant he was in for some fucking awful shit when he hit the other side of that door. There was always a door when it came to Howard. An office door (always intimidating). His bedroom door. A study door in the house. And now, the door to his own fucking apartment. And within the rooms these doors lidded, there was always Howard in his nice suits with his identical hawkish eyes that were just oh-so calculating and stern. Tony scowled at the door. He was almost scared to go in his own apartment. It was bordering on pathetic.

He threw open the door. "Honey, I'm home!" He was his normal bright, drugged up, halfway hungover self that Howard just couldn't stand. And really, what was bettering than getting his already probably pissed father wound up? Tylenol.

Howard was sitting on a sofa with a glass of scotch in his hand. A smirk played with Tony's mouth. That sofa had seen more than it's fair share of his _fun_ over the past year he had been living here. Blondes, brunettes, red-heads, raven-haired girls. It had seen them all. Howard clearing his throat brought him back to reality. "Did you hear anything I just said, son?" His tone wasn't kind, concerned, or even pissed. It wasn't anything. _Nothing_. Not a trace of emotion. Because that just wasn't the '_manly_' way. -snort-

"Oh, god, please. I can't even tell if you're frowning. Did you get botox? I told you that-" He was just trying to get the man to _react_, for god's sake. Tony had been trying to get Howard to react for years. Almost a decade, in fact.

"Tony, could you try to be serious for a moment? These are some serious charges you're facing." The solemnity of his tone almost made Tony laugh. Charges. -snort- More like some more of Tony's screw ups to be swiftly swept under the rug to disappear for all of time. It wasn't like this type of thing hadn't happened before. "You stole my car. While drunk." And oh, would ya look at the sternness in that man's eyes. Fascinating. Tony wondered if he ever looked like that? God, he hoped not.

He laughed easily. "Yeah, I stole your car. So why don't you just drop the charges? I mean, it'd be kind of redundant to pay fines you instigated." He shrugged. "And the DUI? Hell, you've handled that before. Just make a few calls to your lackeys, and it'll all blow over." Come on, Howard, how many times had they been through this? It should be like the back of his hand by now.

"I won't be paying the fines. You will. You'll need to get a job and pay it all off yourself. I'm through with this, Tony. I am not going to fund any more of your self-destruction. The booze, the parties, the clothes. None of it. I will pay for your college, because that's what your mother would have wanted." He waved a dismissive hand at what he saw in front of him. "But nothing else. Including the rent. So, I suggest you get on with those job applications." Tony stared at him in blood-boiling anger. The man was just sitting there, sipping his god damn scotch like they were having a fucking Sunday brunch together. "I doubt you'll be able to do it, though. You can't really do anything but tinker with machines. I'll be surprised if you can hold down a job for a month." All Tony heard was words like '_failure_' and '_screw up_' in Howard's tone. He had been abandoned before, but all the emotion and hurt he felt right now was boiled down to hard, cold anger. And a very sharp tongue.

He straightened his spine, forcing himself to look unaffected. "So, why are you even here, Howie? Wanna look good for the reporters? Gotta make sure those headlines make you out to be a struggling single dad doing his best despite his wife dying and his son being an eternal fuck up. I bet they think you're doing a stellar fucking job with your prodigy spawn, don't they? You sure have put on a good show, I will give you that. Really, man. Bravo." He laughed. Because if he didn't, he might cry. "Maybe they'll even give you a Grammy." He grinned, that jackal, shit-eating grin he was so good at effecting.

Howard didn't blink. "Maybe if you put some effort into this, and stop being such a fuck-up- as you so eloquently called it- you could make it. You've never applied yourself, Tony. How do you think I got to where I am? I'm not a millionaire because it was handed to me on a silver platter. I worked my fingers to the bone to get where I am to have what I have." Tony marveled at how he looked the perfect businessman, despite the stinging words Tony had just thrown in his face. He fought the urge to scream. Because wasn't this how it always ended? Tony left filled with anger and hurt and nothing to do with it but get drunk and do something stupid; and Howard, ever nonplussed.

But he was right, there were few things in this life that Tony had really worked at. In fact, there were two. One was getting his father's attention. And he had done so in absolutely any way he could. His father had never actually noticed Tony's accomplishments other than to make money off of them or make himself look good. Therefore, he made the man pay attention to him in one of two ways. Breaking things- such as the law- and irritating his father's disgustingly rich clients. A moment of shining pride for him was spilling his steaming hot coffee all over one high-level client's crotch. He had been ten at the time. Can you say '_genius_'?

"Funny, you could never work very hard at being a father." He forced tears back, clearing away his cracking voice and grinning. "But hey, them's the breaks." The only thing shielding him from screaming at the top of his lungs how much he hated his father was his unwavering self-control. But he would be surprised if the fire of hell itself wasn't burning in his eyes.

Howard stood, leaving his scotch glass on the coffee table. "Goodbye, son. Good luck."

He and Howard had always been this way. Their relationship consisted of Tony acting out and Howard completely ignoring him. No matter the cutting words, the tears, the objects thrown, Tony was ignored and dismissed. But Howie had never had good relationship skills. Hell, maybe it was hereditary. Maybe that's why Toy couldn't keep a girlfriend to save his life. Or why he hadn't a single friend. Sure, there were people who liked him, but they'd just as soon kick him to the wolves if it suited them. He had learned that the hard way. Trust issues always had good reason backing them.

Tony didn't acknowledge him. He just locked his jaw and stared at nothing in complete silence. His teeth were grinding together painfully. His lungs were dying to explode. But he waited until the door closed behind Howard. Then he picked up that glass and threw it with all his might at the door with an angry, "**_FUCK_**!"

* * *

**I'm sorry. This sucks so bad. The last section was rewritten because my computer deleted it. Suffice to say, I was almost ready to chuck my computer off a very tall building. Anways, please review, tell me it's terrible if you want to. I shall understand.**

**P.S. I'm sorry. Both Howard and Odin are complete dicks.**

** See ya later, alligators. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4- Sugar, We're Going Down

**Okay, new chapter time! Thank you guys so much for the follows and favorites and reviews! 3!**

** I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Tony glared out the window, his mind buzzed and angry. Something inside him was breaking loose, like a monster breaking out of a cage. It was howling with rage and demanding attention. Bitterness coated his throat like bile. He eyed the bottle of Adderall on the counter, not three feet away. Maybe if he just took a _few_ more, he would calm down. Wasn't it worth a try? It wouldn't be the first time he had taken more than prescribed. His mind waged a war with itself, to-ing and fro-ing between 'right' and 'wrong'.

He was swallowing three more pills before he could blink. Hey, he was Tony Stark. He did what he wanted. And slowly, the world stopped spinning so fast, and his mind adopted a more manageable pace. He could breathe. The yucky feeling of anger and decade-old bitterness was going away. It would be back, but for now he had peace.

Dragging on a coat and popping up the collar against the chilly wind, he strode out of his apartment. He had to get out of there, or he would drown himself in an angry whiskey binge. Maybe he would try to find Bruce or Clint or Steve. Somebody to keep him from doing something potentially toxic. Not that he hadn't done that plenty of times before...

Crossing the roads was almost hazardous. Everything was foggy and cheery, but beneath it something nagged at him irritatingly. Something called Consciousness. Something he did everything he could to try to bury beneath Adderall and whiskey. He had been doing it for years. Since he had been diagnosed and dosed for ADHD. Funny, back then it had been experimentation and the thrill of doing something 'dangerous'. Now, his intentions weren't so young and innocent.

He strode towards the dorm room that housed his friends slowly. It was a nice night, the air was crisp. He breathed in and felt clean oxygen fill his lungs. The cool air in his body cleared his mind, breaking the Adderall spell momentarily. Then he exhaled and the fog came rushing back. His eyes focused, following a raven-haired teenager across the green grass in front of him. He smiled. This was just _so_ much better than playing video games with the guys all night.

"Loki! Hi!" He jogged to catch up with the long-legged boy who hadn't stopped at Tony's greeting. Rude, much?

Green eyes glared at him for a moment just long enough to convey how much of a burden it was for Loki to even acknowledge '_Stark_'. "What is it, Stark? I'm _busy_." The boy huffed, still walking far too fast for Tony in his current state.

"No, you're not." Tony's eyes quickly swept across the teenager to find some evidence to said fact. Ah. He was wearing normal people clothes instead of his usual '_I'm-busy-fuck-off_' dressy attire. "You're dressed-down. Meaning you're going home to study." Tony flashed an intelligent, charming smile. Loki didn't fall for it.

Those sea-colored eyes finally settled on him as Loki stopped and turned to face him. "Are you...high?" Loki's face momentarily invaded his personal space. Tony got a whiff of mint and evergreen and winter. It was almost intoxicating.

"Uh. No. I'm medicated. Adderall. I have ADHD. And no, I won't stop in the middle of sentences- Oh hey, your brother." Tony caught sight of the blonde quarterback and offered a shy little wave at the incoming giant.

Yeah. He was still intimidated.

"Anthony Stark! Brother!" Thor's face lit up in a huge, goofy grin. "Me and some of the others are going out for Friday night festivities. Would you join us?" Uh huh. Tony melted when Thor's big blue eyes turned pleading- and they weren't even focused on him. _Damn_. How could Loki say no to that?

Loki's green eyes drained to a dark forest color. The way they changed shades of green like a mood ring fascinated Tony to no end. Because, _yeah_, it seemed it _was_ possible for him to be _more_ intrigued about the sullen, dark boy. Really, this was getting ridiculous. He had never been this way with girls. What was it about this kid?!

"No." Of course, Loki's favorite word. "I have things to do, Thor. Unlike you, I have to actually do my homework. I am not getting a free ride because I can throw a ball." Feline eyes rolled delicately, eyelashes fluttering. Tony kept his snickering to himself. Loki was _such_ a diva, seriously. Like Tony had room to talk. -snort-

"I'll go." He shrugged, it was something to get him away from his apartment and possibly away from his self-destruction. "I don't have anything better to do, _apparently_." He shot a short-lived glare at Loki.

The teenager huffed a sigh. "Don't kill yourselves." Loki muttered, turning to walk away.

Thor shot Tony a pleading, puppy dog gaze that almost broke his heart. Really, those eyes were killer. What was with these two? Messing around with Tony when he's practically medicated off his nut. Not cool, guys, not cool. "Hey! Loki, come on, man. We need you." Tony smiled his 100% guarantee charm magnet smile on. It didn't work.

Loki smiled haughtily. "I know. I just don't care." And damn if he didn't look a bit like a pretty demon. It was actually kind of hot._ Wait..._

"Well, I can't blame you for not coming. Few people can party as hard as I can. I see how it might be intimidating." Tony shrugged nonchalantly, winking conspiratorially with Thor, who just about split his face smiling at him. Damn, could these two be more different?

Loki turned, eyes flashing. Jackpot. A challenge. Never failed with his type, although, Tony wasn't sure he had ever met anyone quite like the tall, emerald-eyed, acerbic nineteen-year old. Maybe that's why he was so curious. Maybe it wasn't how fatally attractive he was. No. Of course it wasn't that. Tony is a playboy. A playboy prodigy, in fact.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea what you're asking for." Loki threatened, but his lips quirked. Was he..._no_. Surely not. But, yes, yes he was. He was flirting. "Nobody parties harder than a Odinson." And yep, there it was. An actual smile.

Tony shrugged, still pulling off his nonchalance like he was born with it in his bones. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe that. See, I have proof, no one can keep up with me. It's in my DNA." Green eyes fired gorgeously. Man. This was why he liked getting him riled up, his fucking eyes were like a whole new life form. They were a controlled explosion. Tony couldn't get enough.

Loki laughed. That was a first. It was like the glacier of the past weeks had melted to this hot little flame that was suddenly full of life. How hard was he tripping right now? I mean, Adderall had some side effects. But this was just too real. "Alright, Stark. I'll bite. You're on."

Thor and Tony chatted about which club they were going to while Loki sprinted to his dorm to get changed. Tony wouldn't deny that he was excited. Finally, Loki was starting to loosen up. And Tony was beginning to see a new addiction on the horizon; in the form of a tall, scrawny teenager with long hair and soul-eating eyes.

Ten minutes later, Loki came sauntering down the stairs in a loose green shirt that showed off a snowy neck and chest, and tight leather pants that really left nothing to the imagination. Tony was pretty sure he was gaping in a totally obvious way, but with this view, who could blame him?

"You're drooling, Stark." Loki flashed a brilliant grin at him that was equal parts devil and angel. Tony's head was spinning out of control.

"Side effects of the meds." He retorted, trying to keep his cool. Loki narrowed his eyes and arched one perfect eyebrow in a look that told Tony he wasn't fooling anyone. Oh damn. He was so in over his head this time.

* * *

Tony was almost forgetting about the alcohol in his hand. Loki was out on the dance floor. Let's just say, Tony hadn't know the teenager had a wild streak, let alone that he could move like that. And those lights made him look like he wasn't even real. They flashed on his hair, and played with the shadows his high cheekbones already created. He was stunned. This was a side of the teenager he hadn't anticipated. And he was _not_ used to getting caught off guard.

Thor took Jane out, along with Clint and the girl he had somehow picked up ten minutes ago at the bar, and Bruce and his new girlfriend, to dance. Loki came over, his cheeks flushed and his hair wild. "So, who parties harder, again?" Loki batted his eyelashes and leaned close to hear the '_obvious_' answer.

Tony cackled. "Boy, you aren't even drunk. Come on." He dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Ooo, he was getting good at this acting stuff. "Get some booze in you, and then the court will revisit the case." He had learned from the best exactly how to bluff his way through life. Howard Stark was a class A actor, Tony had seen that up close and personal while his father bragged and doted in front of the television crew cameras.

Loki arched an eyebrow and frowned. "I have to be drunk to party hard? I think not." He lifted his chin, scoffing Tony with both tone and body language. Impressive. No one had ever contradicted him like this before. It was captivating. Really, Loki was pushing Tony far out of his comfort zone tonight. And Tony liked it, for a change.

Sure, Tony was no stranger to pushing boundaries and playing this game of cat and mouse, but it was different with Loki. There was no ulterior motive. Loki was just having fun, and tomorrow morning he would again be the cold bastard he always was toward 'Stark'. This wasn't about Tony's fame, father, or finances. He didn't want in Tony's pants, or wallet. It was refreshing and new and unexpected and Tony couldn't help but _crave_ more. There was a sense of danger here, with Loki. That feeling that he was walking a tightrope with no net below to catch him when he fell.

"Please. It's the American party scene. If you ain't drunk, you ain't partying." Tony grinned, trying to charm Loki. It had never worked, and he wondered for a moment if he was losing his touch. Seriously, Loki should be wrapped around his finger by now.

Loki rolled his eyes. "I don't drink." He admitted, and was that a blush? Tony almost fell out of his seat. "I rather like being in control of my actions."

Tony gulped down the rest of his scotch. "That's the problem. You're too in control, Lo-Lo. You never let lose. Be more like me, babe. Be crazy, for one night." He pushed his face close to Loki's, expecting him to back away. As always, Loki defied his expectations and stayed right where he was, staring rebelliously in his eyes. "I dare you to spend one night doing whatever crazy stunt pops into your pretty little head."

A small smile spread across Loki's red lips. He pressed a finger against Tony's lips, which acted like an _electric jolt_ to Tony's backbone. "And what if that stunt would make you _very_ uncomfortable?" His tone had dropped low and husky, and damn, Tony's mind had taken off and his eyes couldn't seem to look anywhere but into those emerald gems that were _alive_ with mischief and something else that he couldn't quite understand yet.

He chuckled, laughing off his raging uncertainty in this new direction their conversation was heading. "There isn't anything you can do that would make me uncomfortable." He shrugged. "That's my talent. I make everyone uncomfortable. I do stupid shit that makes people hate me like it's a reflex or something. I guess that's why I'm here, why I push everyone's buttons, why my dad just fucking abandoned me, why I don't have a friend in the world other than Pepper. I'm cancer." He stared into his cup, wondering why the fucking fuck he had just said all that to someone who already hated him. Pushing the glass away, he looked anywhere but at the teenager standing next to him, staring a hole into his head.

Loki turned away and drummed his fingers on the bar for a moment. Tony felt the silence between them crawling across his skin uncomfortably, even though the music was banging almost painfully through his head. The pills were wearing off, because suddenly the world was _bright_ and agonizingly _focused_. The lights flashed around him like little lightning strikes, and the music blared against his eardrums like nails on chalk board. It wasn't the first time he hated his penchant for party clubs and loud distractions. But this was what kept his mind off everything that tortured him, at least for a little while. And sometimes, it gave him yet another distraction to take home and keep his self-loathing brain occupied even longer.

"You aren't so bad, Sta- _Anthony_." Loki sounded hesitant. "Get me drunk, corrupt my innocence." Tony turned to see Loki smiling at him, genuine and stunning.

Tony grinned. "My pleasure."

* * *

Loki wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, he just knew it was a very bad idea that would end in misery the next morning. Drinking had never treated him well, which was precisely the reason he had sworn it off nearly a year and a half ago. Waking up in his own vomit between two people whose names he didn't know and faces he didn't recognize had finally shocked him into the realization that he much preferred his wits about him and his memory a _functioning_ section of his brain.

All the same, for some reason, he was drinking to keep up with the resident alcoholic. Maybe it was because he felt something like empathy for Stark and his little confession. He had felt much the same way almost his whole life- or at least since puberty. For a long time, he had kept such feelings to himself becoming bitter and cold towards the world instead of talking about it with anyone- including Thor. Maybe that had been a mistake, but one couldn't go back and repair the past, one must merely live with their regrets.

Tony was giggling at something Clint had said, which Loki had effectively ignored, and leaned against Loki unwittingly. The warm contact almost made Loki flinch, but he stayed still. It was the first touch he had felt in a long time that wasn't sexual or harmful. He didn't even let Thor hug him any more. Truth be told, he had sworn off personal contact about the same time as alcohol. Maybe the transition hadn't been from drinking to sobriety, but rather from halfway happiness to full-on bitterness.

"Hey, wanna dance?" Tony was in his personal space, and Loki could smell the whiskey on his breath. The smile on the other boy's face and the way his caramel eyes had turned to burning liquid like the whiskey he drank was a little disconcerting.

Loki merely nodded, finding himself incapable of speech.

_'What's wrong with me?'_

Tony grinned even wider, jumping off the his bar stool and heading out into the writhing, gyrating crowd like he had been _born_ with a swing to his hips and music in his limbs. Or perhaps he had adopted this world during long, drunk nights of abandonment and desperation. Loki felt a line forming between his brooding eyebrows. He hadn't remembered being such a depressed drunk. The thoughts quickly dispersed when Tony turned to him and took his hands, spinning them around, then pulling him flush against him. The strong arm warm around his waist and guiding him through the crowd made his brain turn to white noise except for one singular thought. _Tony._

They danced through three songs, mostly mash-ups of pop songs that Loki had never heard before, not speaking a word. Somehow, the silence was comfortable, despite the fact that they had hardly spent five minutes in each other's company without some sort of banter or rambling (from Stark). The fourth song was a slow song. They stood still for a moment, staring at each other uncertainly. Then Loki shrugged and stepped closer, taking Stark's hand and wrapping his other around the man's broad shoulders.

_'The hell with it.'_ In the morning, he could write all this closeness off as too much alcohol. It was certainly a plausible excuse, if not entirely _honest_. Some part of him screamed that the alcohol had nothing to do with how he was acting, that everything he was doing was him starting to actually _like_ the genius that had done nothing rub him the wrong way for weeks. Maybe it was the common vein of pain and bad relationships and self-destruction that made him empathize, or maybe he was just in a generous mood. It made no difference. His tolerance for the pint-sized inventor had changed, either way.

"You're very good at this." Anthony's voice in his ear shoved chills across his arms and spine.

Loki smiled, resting his head on Stark's shoulder. His eyes drifted closed, he was getting tired. The alcohol was working rare warmth into his muscles, he had been up since six a.m. Maybe it would be okay to just relax for a moment, to let Stark guide him around, to follow...

"Let's get out of here." Stark pulled away, only to wrap a supportive arm around him immediately. "You look like you're ready to collapse."

Loki just wrapped his arms around Anthony's neck and '_mmhmm_'ed groggily. Then he let his eyes close for good, this time. It was just too much work to hold his eyelids up any longer.

* * *

Loki woke slowly, feeling the warm blankets around him cozy and soft. Misery quickly set in, though. His headache hit like a _locomotive_ and he felt the sweat on his skin and the acid coating his mouth. He groaned, not sure if he even wanted to open his eyes.

Beside him, something _moved_.

He shot into sitting position, opening his eyes and feeling the world dip nauseatingly from his far too quick movements. "_Oh_, gods." He held his head and winced at the brash light pummeling his brain. His head was throbbing with pain.

He looked beside him on the bed and saw one rumpled, sleeping Anthony Stark.

* * *

** So, there's the teensiest bit of Frostiron in this. Kind of. Sort of. **

** Pleaseeeee, let me know if this is good or bad. I really want this to be enjoyable for all who read. So, tell me if I suck. xD**

** Thank you all so much for reading! **

** See you next time ;)**


	5. 5 My Head's A Prison and Nobody Visits

**Okay, it's official. You guys are the best! Thank you for the reviews and the views! Getting a review seriously like makes my year! AH. I love you guys! ;) **

**Now, this chapter is...kind of a rollercoaster of ups and downs. Grab a box of tissues. Oh, the title of this chapter is a song. It's by You Me At Six. I love it.**

**I hope you enjoy! xoxox**

* * *

Loki almost jumped out of the bed.

_What._

_Was._

_Going._

_On._

His heart was hammering. This was not okay. This was not his bed, or his dorm room, or his normal smells, or his bed, or his t-shirt, or his environment, or _his bed_. He had no clue how he had ended up here or why he was here and oh my god, he was hungover. The room was spinning nauseatingly and brown eyes were looking at him in mirrored shock and where was the toilet because he was about to puke.

"There. Go." Stark's husky morning voice went unappreciated as Loki dashed- this was _humiliating_- for the door to his left, which Anthony had graciously pointed out.

Praise the gods. He retched, feeling the acidic contents of the former night's festivities come back warped into practical _poison_. Silently, he apologized to his vocal cords. If the world would just settle down and stop shifting beneath him, maybe he would stop feeling so sick. But _no_. The Universe just wasn't that kind. And feeling Stark silently and, yes, _sweetly_, hold his hair back just made everything worse. This was _gross_. If he wasn't currently the color of a ghost, maybe his cheeks would've been red.

"Are you alright? I thought you had gotten all this out of your system last night." A long, calloused hand rubbed his back comfortingly. For a moment, he didn't feel the urge to stab someone's eye out. That was drastically opposite from the way Stark usually made him feel. Interesting.

"Yeah?" Oh, his voice actually s_ounded_ like his throat _felt_. Fabulous.

"Yep. Which is, by the way, why you're wearing my t-shirt. In case you didn't remember. And, judging by the look you were giving me back there, you don't remember _anything_." The implied smile in his voice brought back all those familiar feelings of wanting to scratch Stark's eyes out with his _perfectly_ manicured nails.

Loki sat back on the hard, cold tile floor and looked up at Stark. He felt a bit pathetic, looking at the young man smiling down at him with disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes. Those caramel eyes brought flashbacks of dancing with him at the club last night, and drinking with him, and _smiling_ at him. Dear gods, what _had_ happened? If he found out Stark had taken advantage of him...he was siccing Thor on him.

"So, what exactly did happen?" _Ew_. His voice was scratchy and rough and ew.

Stark lowered himself to sit beside him, facing him with his legs crossed 'Indian style'. He took a deep breath. "Well, we were slow dancing and you kind of got all relaxed and sleepy on me. You looked like you were gonna fall asleep right there in my arms. So, I, like a _gentleman_, was going to walk you back to your room. Y'know, make sure you actually got there and shit. But, we were barely out the door of the club before you threw up in the bushes and begged me to let you go to sleep right there. I practically carried you here, shit-faced myself. I don't know why I came here. But I helped you put on that shirt," He nodded once towards the shirt that hung loosely on Loki's shoulders. "And then we were both out." He shrugged.

Loki was silent, remembering little bits and pieces of the forgotten walk/stumble to Stark's room. He cringed remembering begging the boy to let him fall asleep where he had sat on the pavement, holding his head and halfway to _tears_. But there was a smile playing with his lips when he remembered Anthony coercing him to change out of his dirty shirt into the one he now wore- which was blazoned with a very faded '_Metallica_' on the front. For a second, he toyed with the hem.

"Th-Thank you." He smiled shyly.

Stark grinned. "Hey, no need to thank me. You helped me as much as I helped you." He shrugged, suddenly starting to fidget. Loki's eyebrows furrowed, he didn't remember helping Stark. "You look like you need some breakfast and water and probably some Tylenol. I can make you some pancakes? I've been told I'm a master pancake-maker." He winked. Loki restrained himself from rolling his eyes, the young man must have had a massive hangover, yet he was still _flirting._

"How did I help you?" He leaned forward, catching the warm brown eyes that seemed to be looking anywhere but at him.

Stark chewed on his lip, staring at Loki blankly. Then he grinned, so fake Loki almost wanted to _cry_- he had seen that same expression in the mirror too many times to count. "I'm gonna make us breakfast." He stood and started to walk out of the room.

"Anthony." The boy spun to look at him with a genuine smile and puppy-dog eyes. "If you don't tell me exactly what you meant by that statement, I'll leave. And everything will return to as it was." He forced himself not to feel guilty when the bright expression on Stark's face crumpled.

Stark let out a deep sigh. "_Fine_. But let's go in the kitchen. You need water." He held out a hand to help Loki stumble painfully to his feet. He groaned at the pain that flared in his head. "And Tylenol."

"I don't- _oh_!- take medication." He murmured lamely, his sentence interrupted when his first step was met with a sharp complaint from his burning brain. Even his _eyes_ hurt.

"_Sure_." Stark chuckled.

"Perhaps I can make an exception this once." Loki muttered, sending a scathing glare at the giggling boy who handed him a rather extraordinarily large bottle of pain killers. On the counter he saw several other bottles, one of which was labeled Adderall. There were also several other labels he didn't recognize. "What is all this?" He picked up the bottles to examine them.

Chlorophyll. _Chlorophyll_. Now that one he had heard of.

"Just my meds. Some for ADHD, some for migraines, some for sleep, some for other stuff." He shrugged, mixing pancake batter and watching Loki with eyes that looked deep and dark in the dim light of the room. Loki belatedly realized this wasn't a dorm. It was an apartment.

"You still have to explain yourself to me." He eased onto a stool sitting by the counter, sipping his water delicately.

Stark sighed and put down the mixing bowl. He leaned on the counter and placed his chin on his fist. "Last night I was really close to doing something..._stupid_. I mean, nothing I haven't done before. But I didn't really want to go down that road. You, and your dancing," He winked salaciously. "Kept me from it. So, I owe you a thanks, too."

Loki narrowed his eyes, regarding Stark intently. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't being completely honest, either. "And? What was this something stupid?" He ran a hand back through his hair, his fingers catching on several tangles. _Gross_. He needed a brush, but considering the general state of Stark's unruly mud-colored hair, he doubted he even _owned_ one.

Anthony stared at the batter with a tight expression on his face. Loki eyed him. This wasn't easy for the young man, as Loki imagined it wouldn't be for he himself. But he still demanded answers, or he'd be out of here so fast Stark's head would spin. Loki Odinson _never_ made a threat he didn't keep.

Fact #3: Loki rarely lies. He merely twists the truth to suit his desires.

"Well, I was going to down more alcohol and pills than was really..._necessary_." He shrugged, something dark and stormy entering the brown eyes Loki was finding himself becoming fond of. Loki felt that what he had experienced of Stark was the medicated calm of that brewing storm.

"Why?" He picked at a growing hole in his jeans. He needed to go shopping.

Stark sighed. "You sure do ask a lot of questions, Frosty." Loki glared. "Okay, _okay_. Turn down the megawatt glare before I burst into flames." Loki had to remind himself not to smile, that _wasn't_ cute, Stark. "My dad and I had a really bad...well, he told me he wasn't going to be 'funding my screw ups' any longer." The brunette shrugged, obviously trying to play the indifferent card. Loki wasn't buying it. "I was pretty pissed." He smiled, trying to charm Loki out of asking more questions. Like Loki would be so kind. -snort-

"Is this because of your incident the other day?" He rubbed circles into his miserable temple with his thumbs. Being hungover was probably the worst pain he had felt in years. It was like being shot. In the head. With a sawed-off shotgun.

Stark looked at him so fast he must have gotten whip-lash. If it wouldn't have hurt, Loki might have let out that evil laugh that always scared Thor into submission. Likely, it wouldn't have had the same effect on Anthony. He sighed, cringing at the _disgusting_ sensation that had seemed to seep into every nook and cranny of his lithe, tall body which, at this moment, was entirely too large for comfort. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but the idea of food made him want to head back for the bathroom.

"Yes. Somewhat. Me and my dad haven't really ever gotten along. Especially since my mom died." He shrugged, filling Loki's water glass up again. "Drink more. You've gotta be dehydrated as fuck. I've never seen someone get so sick before." He patted Loki hand soothingly.

Loki looked at him askance. "Probably because you are normally the one getting _that_ sick." Stark laughed, making his head thud extra hard. "_Shut up_." He laid his forehead against the table and groaned, sounding completely pitiful.

"I'm sorry, Lo-Lo. If you eat, it will help. I promise. You gotta get something on your stomach." He shoved a plate in the direction of Loki's head. If he got syrup in Loki's hair, he would die a slow, painful death. "Come on, sunshine." He nudged Loki with the clean end- luckily for him- of his spatula.

"Call me that again. I _dare_ you." He growled, sitting up and eyeing the fluffy breakfast explosion of calories. He was fairly sure he gained ten pounds just _looking_ at it.

"What would you prefer? Darling? Baby? Sweetiepie? Cupcake?" He dodged the fork Loki threw at him. "Honeybun? Boo?" He laughed when Loki just glared at him silently.

"Call me any of those, and I'll have your head hung above my fireplace." He snarled, sounding completely feral. The light in Anthony's eyes gave him an unexpected spark of satisfaction. Nevertheless, he refused to be charmed even if it would be totally acceptable in his mental state. As in, state of complete debilitation. He was afraid to move for the ceaseless pain that refused to abate.

"Since you asked me twenty questions, do I get to ask you some?" The pure innocence in his eyes put Loki immediately on guard. "It won't be anything so probing as your Inquisition, cross my heart." He batted his eyelashes playfully.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "No. We made no such agreement, so my life is off limits."

Stark pouted. "But then you can ask me more questions." He proffered. Loki smiled, little did the inventor know he had played this game many times before, and was therefore King of such situations.

"I can anyways. I never asked for permission." He smiled innocently in the face of Stark's irritated glare. "What did you think of my father?" He leaned on an elbow, pushing his pancakes around on his plate. His stomach was growling like a _lion_, but the idea of eating wasn't quite bearable yet.

Stark sighed, flipping a pancake before he answered. "Well, I don't know. I kind of tuned him out once he started droning on about Thor. I mean, your brother is cool and shit, but I don't really care to know how he won this game or that. I was more interested in you." Loki thought the young genius's cheeks turned a little pink. Interesting. "And, well, he was reluctant to talk about you and my dad was glaring at me for even asking about you, so I figured I'd drop the subject and let the man get the whole Thor saga out of his system while I drank myself to oblivion." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Too, he didn't even mention you at first, I had to ask. That wasn't too cool, in my opinion. But I don't know, maybe he just thought I would know only Thor 'cause he's popular and some shit. And I'm all space-agey and you're all classical, and usually the two go down separate paths." Tony brought his wrists together then pushed his hands in opposite directions. "But anyways, yeah." Eyebrows pushed down over Stark's caramel eyes. "Did I answer your question?"

Loki blinked.

So, Odin, as usual, had pretended like he didn't even exist. Not a surprise, in the slightest. So why was he feeling that usual pang in his chest that reminded him that_ oh yeah_, he actually _cares_ what his family thinks about him. Unfortunately, all that had ever brought him was pain and the miserable question of what he had done wrong to make them dislike him. The mirror always answered his question, remind him of his pale complexion and dark hair and green eyes in comparison to their golden skin and flaxen hair and sapphire eyes. They were big and strong while he was thin and intelligent. It was like he wasn't even part of their family. He saw the looks he got when Thor introduced him as his brother. People could tell he wasn't normal, he didn't fit, he was in the wrong puzzle.

"Yes, yes, you answered my question quite efficiently." He waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the perturbed glare he got for treating Stark like a peasant. "So you really have no opinion?" His eyes found Stark's again. Oh, he _did_ like those warm eyes.

Stark shrugged. "I don't really know enough to have an opinion. Thor seems to adore him, and you're your usual impenetrable wall of calm neutrality. So, I don't know." He cocked his head. "But, I could take your indifference as a masquerade to hide how you really feel. Usually people don't hide positive emotions, only negative ones. So, I could conclude that your father is a hard bastard whom you hate. Then, I would say I dislike the Senator. However, were I wrong..." He gave an indifferent gesture of his hands. "What difference does it make? Not like you'll give me any reaction to-"

"Dear god, you talk too much." He buried his face in his hands, idly wondering why Stark's voice didn't hurt his head like it should when he had such a massive hangover. He looked up. "You know, by your own reasoning, your indifference to your own father and his recent treatment of you means that it actually _does_ effect you on some deeper level." He leaned forward. "So tell me, Stark, what's the real story between you and your father?" He could feel the curiosity just eating away at him.

The man grinned. "You're deflecting, Lo-Lo." He piled more pancakes on Loki's plate and ignored the flesh-eating glare he got for it. "You need to eat more, you're too skinny." He shrugged, eyeing Loki's thin form in his t-shirt. And Loki would never admit it, but he was starting to love wearing the inventor's t-shirt and the pungent smell of gasoline, grease, and smoke that emanated from the fabric. "Alright, do you really want to know all the nasty, dirty, _awful_ secrets between me and my big, _bad _dad?" He leaned on the counter, eyes locked on Loki in a way that made the young man feel almost naked beneath those big brown eyes.

He smiled mischievously. "Yes. I do so _love_ dark secrets." He winked. Yes. Loki _winked_. Will wonders never cease?

Stark's grin got wider. "You gotta promise not to tell a soul, though." He held out his pinky.

Loki laughed freely. A_ pinky promise_? It was like they were in grade school again. But, he reached out and twined their pinkies together, despite how juvenile and young it made him feel. Maybe it wasn't such a bad feeling around the devil-may-care teenager. "I _promise_, Anthony." He purred.

Stark's face melted into a warm look of appreciation. "I really love hearing you say my full name. I've always hated it, but somehow you make it sound okay." He let Loki's finger go. "Well, the big secret is..." He sighed and sat down on a stool, leaning on the counter heavily. "When my mom died, I was devastated and felt a lot of it was my own fault. Like she had died because of something I did. My dad alienating me essentially just made that guilt a lot stronger. So, the night after her funeral, while he was drinking himself senseless, I was as well. But for a purpose." He spoke slowly and bit his lip, dropping his forehead to his arms on the table. "So that I could end my own life. You know, a life for a life. Maybe if I killed myself, I could be relieved of all sin. I don't know what was really running through my head. But I was fourteen, and I've never been known for one to have the best ideas. I grabbed a bottle of Vicodin and downed about twenty pills." He looked up, his face weary and drawn and almost _old_, for a moment. "Stane found me passed out on the floor, halfway dead already. He called an ambulance and I got my stomach pumped and a therapist trying to help me sort out my issues." He shrugged. "It was all swept under the rug like it never happened, and my dad never visited me while I was there. For about three years, I couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him. I got out of there as fast I could, entering college about two years after all that." He smiled shakily. "There you go. All my hidden secrets bared before you. You've seen my _soul_, Loki." He told him with mock solemnity.

Loki stared at him in silence for a moment. Well, Stark had certainly surprised him. The young, cocky inventor obviously had a destructive streak, but suicidal? That wasn't what he had pegged him for. He had considered him a rich and spoiled brat, blowing money just because he could. The girls, drugs, and alcohol had seemed only natural considering his financial status and popularity. Many in his position fell to the same vices. But hearing this...it changed his mind about the teenager entirely.

* * *

Loki left not long after Tony's confession, leaving his head a spinning maelstrom of thoughts. He was currently a brooding _wreck_.

His attempt five years ago had left him a shaking, skinny mess with a wild side that was really nothing but a death wish. And that drew people to him, the loud desperation to drive his life straight off a cliff. It was a spectacle, and teenagers were drawn to that like flies to honey. Tony was their walking, talking reality TV show. He was rich, famous, and losing his god damn _mind_. It was just a matter of time until he imploded in on himself.

At first, he had fully believed these kids were his friends. That they had only pure intentions in hanging out with him. Until the night they had begged him to steal his dad's vintage 1940's convertible, and go bar hopping with them. He didn't realize at the time that he was merely their free alcoholic ride. Because being friends with Anthony Stark meant as much free booze as you could drink, no matter your age. He had returned home at noon the next day, breezing home with a scratched car and a hangover. He had laughed in the face of Howard's fury all on his own. He had taken the punishment, standing with a straight back as his father ranted at a completely unheard-of decibel, alone. He had withstood the hell his home life had become all by himself.

It was then that Tony realized he was completely and totally _alone_ in life.

It wasn't for nothing that he became the lone wolf he was now. And no one understood, because no one had been through what he had. But that was just another aspect in which he was alone in this big, wide world.

* * *

Tony was snoring through his physic's class when something slammed. He sat up with wide eyes and his heart hammering. Beside the professor's desk, there was a pretty girl in a flawless black suit. He sniffed, eyeing her with mild curiosity. Totally the type of girl that would drown in his destructive, '_bad boy_' behavior. So, why wasn't he interested? Normally, he would start acting up in class, making snide remarks that would have Professor Bettany rolling his eyes and ready to _shoot_ himself in the foot just to get out of teaching the rest of the class.

"Alright, that's fine. Tony?" Bettany waved him over.

Feeling his eyebrows shoot up into his messy bangs, Tony got up and half-stumbled his way to the front of the classroom. "What?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Mr. Stark, your father sent me to fetch you. He needs you at the office." She smiled politely. He didn't fail to notice the curiosity in her curt voice. Ah, she was one of old Howie's new 'flames', which was more like an ember that went out in a month or two. Like father, like son.

He raised one eyebrow. "Has he ever heard of this new space-age technology called '_cellphones_'?" He grumbled, completely unwilling to bow to his dad's commands. I mean, the dude had sent him on an addiction spree less than a week ago by telling him he was on his own in this lovely world. He was _still_ looking for a damn job.

She shrugged. "He said you wouldn't answer his calls." Valid point. "Besides, he said you were going to want to come. This apparently involves you and your future." She smiled a fake apology.

Sighing deeply, Tony turned on his heel to grab his laptop- which he had been drooling on mere minutes ago- and followed the pretty blonde out of the room. Her walk was fast and long-legged, which made it hard for him to keep up while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes groggily. So, he settled for trailing behind her like a boy following his mother in the supermarket. She had a nice ass, so it wasn't a terrible view. Nevertheless, he found himself looking around the campus as they strode towards Happy in his father's black Mercedes. A tall, pale teenager standing beside a mountain topped by a blonde mop caught his attention.

"Hey, Thor, Loki." He slapped Thor on the back in that overly affectionate, brotherly way all men have. "What's up?" He ignored the burning green eyes that made him feel like he was on _fire_.

"We were just talking about going out for a repeat of the other night's festivities." Thor smiled down at him with what seemed like his own personal sun. Tony blinked. "Would you like to come?" The kindness in his voice made it sound like anything but a polite gesture.

"Thor." Loki sounded like a demon. A _stern_ demon. "You have a test to study for." His eyes were boring holes into Thor's head.

Then, Thor poked his bottom lip out in a pout that rivaled any child's. Tony almost melted into a big, doormat of a little puddle right there. "_Please_, Loki? You can come make sure I'm home at a considerable hour?" Thor pleaded, big blue eyes almost shining with entreaties.

Loki put his hands on his hips and cocked his head with absolutely no sign of expression or emotion anywhere nearby. "No." Tony was beginning to think the Lit student had a surprisingly limited vocabulary...

"Oh, come on, Loki. I'll make sure you don't drink yourself into the carpet again." Tony winked at him. "I had no idea you could party like that, Britney." He teased.

Thor looked confused. "_Britney_?" But he went largely ignored. Tony and Loki were completely caught in each other, and this little game they were playing. Because, don't we _really_ know what's _inevitable_ here?

"Comparing me to Britney Spears? Why, I thought I was more the Angelina Jolie type." He smirked. He took it all so smoothly that Tony almost fell over.

"They tell me I'm the next Brad Pitt, y'know." He winked at the almost burning individual smirking at him. Fuck him, he was a _goner_ now. He just didn't really know it, yet.

Loki snorted. "I'm sure. Nevertheless, I wont be going tonight, brother. I have an unavoidable report that I must work on." He shrugged a half-hearted apology at the hulking teen. "And, Brad, don't have too much fun without me, darling." He winked charmingly. Really, Tony was close to having a full-on heart attack. Stop, Loki, it's too much for Tony to handle.

Tony watched him walk away, watching the swing in his hips and the confidence in his stride. He was entranced, forgetting Thor and his dad's assistant, until a throat cleared. He jolted back to the present.

"Can we leave now?" Miss Flawless had a petulant look on her face that made Tony want to claw his eyes out.

He nodded, following her like a man walking the green mile.

* * *

Tony walked into Howard's office without knocking. The man sitting across from his father gave him a look just filled to the brim with contempt and distaste. Tony rolled his eyes and felt his lip curling. Why had he come again? Oh, yeah, a moment of bad judgment. No? Perhaps because he hoped his dad would repent of his ways and let him back into his bank accounts. Warmer. Maybe it was him giving Howard yet another chance to be the dad he had always wanted and needed. Ah, _yes_. That's right.

His foul mood only got worse when the man left and Howard ignored him. _Ignored_ him. He had come all the fucking way down here, only to be ignored. It felt like his entire childhood all over again. Hadn't he gone to college to get away from all this? Why hadn't he chosen a college further away? Oh well, it probably wouldn't have deterred Howard, he was a multimillionaire, after all.

Tony picked up an expensive glass paperweight and juggled it for a moment, pacing. His father was shuffling through papers, signing stuff and reading contracts. But soon, it became too much. "Why am I here?" He whipped around to look at his father. "I thought you were disowning me or some shit." Howard looked at him calmly. Tony wanted to _scream_. Would _someone_ fucking _react_?!

"I never wanted to disown you, Tony." Leaving out the inevitable '_But I had to since you're such a fuck up._' "I need you on a project of Obadiah's." His eyes were those of a hard businessman, not a father.

Tony almost threw the paperweight. "_You_- You called me here to, what?, **_hire_ **me?" His voice was shaking and high, on the verge of hysterical.

"Yes. You'll get paid for your time and contribution." There wasn't an ounce of emotion from the man in front of him.

Tony laughed. "Oh, I'll get paid. That's rich. I'm Tony fucking Stark, Howard. I don't need your goddamn money to get all the booze I need to make your life hell." He snarled, slamming the paperweight down on Howard's desk. It dug into the wood, carving off an inch slice of mahogany off. "You underestimated me. I'm the son of Howard Stark. I can be _cold_, I can be _calculated_, and I can **_ruin_ **you." He snapped. "No. I won't bow to your will and help you with your fucking death machines. I am _not_ you."

Howard sat back, looking at him with dark brown eyes. "No, but like you said, you _are_ my son. And you are cold and calculating and just as much a businessman as I am. So, where's the difference?" The cold inflection in his voice made Tony's blood boil.

"I wouldn't leave the only family I had left." He stood, brushing off his t-shirt and smiling grimly at Howard. "I'd give a shit more than how much money my son could make me. But hey, that's just me." He shrugged.

Howard snarled. "You took away the only family I had left." He growled.

Tony's heart screeched to a stop, trainwrecking on his father's words. His eyes went wild and he dropped the paperweight. It hit the floor with a dull thud.

"You took Maria away from me. It's _your_ fault. And then that stunt you pulled after her funeral?" He laughed. "You're a selfish child, Tony. You always have been." He shook his head, looking away from his stunned son.

Tony blinked. "Y-you don't mean that." His voice was barely audible, his throat constricting.

Howard looked at him again. "Really? She got in that wreck because of you, Tony. If you hadn't been acting out in school, she wouldn't have left the house. She wouldn't have been driving in that condition." He leaned forward, mouth twisted by the most emotion Tony had seen on his father's face since he was in elementary school. "She's dead because of _**YOU**_." His voice had dropped to an almost menacing tone.

"Sir, your ten-"

"_GET THE FUCK OUT_!" Tony thundered, turning to face the pretty blonde. "_**Get out**_." His eyes were on fire. When the door closed, he turned back to his father.

"Nothing like me, huh?" Howard chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm the selfish one? How can you sit there and tell me it's my fault my mother died? I _loved_ her, you bastard. She was my mother and _she_ loved me. She gave me what you refused to. You just sat there day after day, watching me like I was a parasite! What did-

"Aren't you, Anthony? Isn't that all you are? You sucked the life out of your mother, and you'd do the same to me if I bowed to your every whim like she did. You'll do it to everyone you know, because you're just a _leech_. A _tick_. A_ tiny, insignificant_ **parasite**."

Tony backed away. "Go to hell." He snarled.

Then he was out the door and racing down the hallways, dodging people and flying past Pepper without a glance. He didn't look back when she called his name. He had to get out of there. He needed- he _needed_ someone. Anyone. Someone who knew what had happened. But there was only one such person, and he doubted they'd give a shit. But it was worth a try.

* * *

His car screeched to a stop in the parking lot of the college, tires screaming. The students still milling around on the green looked at him when he flung the door open and got out, pulse still racing. His hands were clenched around his keys so hard he was fairly sure his palm was bleeding. He could feel every nerve on end, high-powered and _raw_.

As he started for the dorms, it began to rain. Softly at first, but quickly turning into an all out downpour. People began rushing for shelter, but he didn't run. If he started running now, he wouldn't stop until he got to Canada. So, he walked, feeling the pelting rain run down his face and neck, slipping under his clothes, drenching his shoulders and hair. By the time he got to the dorm, he was shaking cold. Chills ran across his skin like little spiders, crawling over him like a _plague_. The tears were welling up in his chest, and sobs were starting to shake him as he knocked on the door.

The door flew open and there stood Loki, hair wet and t-shirt adorned. "_Stark_?" Confusion drenched his features.

* * *

**Okay. So. It's soooooo long. I'm so sorry! This chapter was a BITCH to write, my friends. A total bitch. And it got so far away from me. Ugh. Sorry. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY SHITTY, LONG ASS CHAPTER! Review, pweez. XO**


	6. Chapter 6- Ohioisonfire!

**I cannot prepare you for this in anyway. I do hope you enjoy it though. Because I love you all.**

**The chapter title is a song by Of Mice & Men. -hearts-**

**xoxoxo, ENJOOOOOOY.**

* * *

"_Stark_?" Loki's voice was more confused than his features, but Tony really couldn't see that through the tears starting to leak over his eyelashes. "What's wr-"

Tony stumbled, falling into Loki's arms weakly. Sobs were shaking his body, and it was all coming so fast and so hard that he couldn't stop it. Not this time. He was an emotional wreck and he couldn't fucking hide it this time. Even if this was _Loki_, Loki who halfway _despised_ him. Even if it was really fucking sad that in the whole wide world, he had only a pompous teenager -who would just as well scratch his eyes out as look at him- to come to.

But the youngest Odinson didn't push him away. He didn't make any disgusted noises or say something snide and arrogant. He merely wrapped his arms around Tony and let him sob- snotty and messy- into his t-shirt.

But Tony didn't think of any of that. He didn't inwardly thank Loki for the kindness and compassion he was suddenly showing, or analyze the reasons why Loki might have had this change of heart- instead, he remembered what his father had said.

The words were running around in his head in circles, chasing each other like a mutt chasing his tail. It felt like hot rods were poking at his brain, and the fiery tears running down his face, and the shivers wracking his body, it was all an assault on his already fragile senses. His nerves felt stripped raw and something inside him was breaking. Was it his heart? Did he have a heart to be broken at all? Was this just some delayed reaction to all the shit he had been through the past five years? Maybe it was all hitting him now. The suicide attempt. The contemptuous relationship with his father. The rollercoaster college experience. The casual fucks who never had a name and the booze that was more precious than gold to him. The prescription drug abuse. The non-prescription drug use. The fact that his father considered him a life-sucking parasite who had killed his beloved wife.

He sniffed and hiccuped, trying to choke the tears and overflowing emotions down. "I'm sorry." He croaked, pulling back and wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve. Disgusting. "I don't know why I'm here or what I'm doing and I just...I'm sorry." He couldn't bring himself to look away from his shoes. He felt ashamed for being here, for feeling like he could sob on someone's shoulder because they knew a stupid fact of his childhood. A fact, mind you, that had almost killed him.

Loki's hands still rested lightly on his shoulders, not entirely letting him pull away. "Anthony, why don't you come in? Hmm? I'll make you some coffee. My roommate isn't here." A snow-tinted hand twined with his, tugging him inside into the warmth. Loki's hand was as cold and cool as the weather it reminded him of.

_ 'She's dead because of __**YOU**__.' _Tony almost choked as the words rang through his head. His entire body went rigid and Loki turned to face him.

"What's wrong?" His voice was like silk in Tony's ear. But it didn't soothe him. He felt unworthy, useless, like his father had hit the nail on the head. Tony was a parasite. And he _hated_ himself. He shouldn't be here.

"I-I should go." He stuttered, still not looking at the misanthropic teenager who suddenly had a heart.

"In your condition? I think not." Loki's hand latched around Tony's wrist. "Look at me, Anthony." Tony's chin was engulfed by an Arctic hand. He looked up into eyes that were almost the exact color of the forest. "What's wrong?" The words were emphasized, trying to get Tony's attention.

"It's my fault." The words were barely audible, but Loki's hand tightened around Tony's wrist. "It's my fault she's dead. He's right." He shrugged, the tears falling again. It was like a river he couldn't dam.

Loki wrenched him into his arms. "Don't you dare say that. Ever." His words were as fierce as his crushing hug. Tony melted, crying into his shoulder again. "Do you understand? _Never_ say that in my presence again or I will slap you." He murmured, his feral tone practically oozing fury. He took Tony by the shoulders and shoved him back so they could look in each other's eyes. Tony stared at the wet spot on Loki's shoulder from his ever-flowing tears. "Look at me." He was growling like a wolf. Tony obeyed. Their eyes stayed locked. It felt like Loki was searching his soul. "God, you _really_ believe it, don't you?"

Tony nodded, his breath hitching at the sharp ache in his chest. "Because it's true." He whined, sounding very much like a crying toddler who had fallen on his butt. "If I hadn't gotten in trouble, she never would have gotten in the car. She never would have been in that accident. She'd be okay, Loki. She'd be _alive_ right now." He sniffed loudly, scrubbing his wet face with damp sleeves. "_It's all my fault_." He whimpered.

* * *

Loki stared at the young man in front of him, listening to his tearful confession and trying to stifle the feeling of his heart banging against his ribs and rending itself in two. Those brown eyes he adored were glassed over with tears and powerful emotions like regret, guilt, grief, and the torment of heartbreak. To Loki, it seemed more likely that Anthony's heart had been demolished by a cruel and spiteful hand. A hand he had no doubt belonged to Howard Stark.

"Shush, Anthony. That's _not_ true. It was an _accident_. You had nothing to do with whether it happened or not." He knew the words were useless. What the young man was feeling was something words could never abate.

"I wish I hadn't failed. I wish I was dead." Stark murmured, his eyes drifting towards the floor again.

Loki felt his heart constrict painfully. "Oh, no, love. _No_." He pulled the engineer into his arms again, crushing him against him as tightly as he could. "Don't think that way." He cooed, feeling the young man respond by squeezing him around the waist so tight it almost cut off his breathing. "Come now, hush." He pulled back a few inches, running his thumbs under Stark's eyes and wiping away his tears.

And really, this was brand new territory for Loki. He had never comforted a soul. Not even Thor, who was too _manly_ to cry in front of his baby brother. There wasn't a logical reason on earth why he should be standing here with this annoying young man that he often wanted to rip into pieces, comforting him with all the compassion of Mother Teresa. Yet here he was, and right now he wasn't going to question his motives, he was just going to _do_. Because Anthony needed someone, and he _needed_ **_Loki_**. No one had ever needed Loki before. It was a strangely amazing feeling.

"I'm sorry." The boy mumbled, sniffing like a baby. Loki ignored how adorable it was as he pulled him towards the couch.

"Don't be sorry, Anthony." He murmured, letting his voice turn silken and soft. The serenity of his own voice had often comforted him as he sang through pain along with the radio. Perhaps it was the gods way of saying they were sorry for turning his life into such an unbearable hell. "You can stay here for a while, until you're okay." He offered, getting up to finally make that coffee he had suggested. He had noticed Stark shivering from the cold seeping through the cracks in the window sills and the chill of his damp clothes. His own wet scalp was causing shivers to envelope his slim body. Goosebumps trailed across his skin like nomads.

Stark sniffled. He seemed so little, so _young_. Loki felt like patting his head and telling him they could watch an action movie to cheer him up; like he would have had the boy been a five year old. Maybe even give him some ice cream. But Stark was _anything_ but young and naive. His cure was alcohol and pills he truly didn't need. Sure, he had ADHD, but Loki knew Stark was taking _far_ more than prescribed. Was it an addiction? Or a vacation? Or both? And, Loki had noticed it didn't help his wandering attention span, which was really closer to that of a _gnat_ than an engineering, scientific genius. The medication wasn't helping Stark, it was _hurting_ him.

"Thanks, Lo-Lo." The teary-eyed teenager offered him a shaky smile. It made a little blossom of hope bloom in Loki's chest beautifully. "I'm really sorry. I've never done this before. I just- I couldn't be alone after...everything." He shrugged, the apology in his eyes far more sincere and honest than the one that tripped and stumbled awkwardly off his tongue.

Loki smiled and nodded understandingly, because he did. Everyone goes through that moment when, if alone, they will undoubtedly do something they will regret- if they they wake up the next morning. He had been there too often. He remembered nights of him and Thor staying up to viciously play video games until dawn the next morning that had kept him from making many mistakes he would have regretted today. "You don't have to apologize, Anthony. Really, it's _okay_." He handed him some warm coffee. He remembered the chill off the other boy's body when they had collided at the door. It was the first hug he had had in _years_. "I am _not_ a heartless bastard. No matter what the rumors claim." And there were rumors, just like there were rumors for Stark. They were just of a widely different strain. Stark had sex rumors. Loki had rumors running around about why he was oh-so acerbic and misanthropic.

And they were all wrong about him. He just didn't like people, for multiple reasons that were privy to him and him only. Panic swept through his chest at the idea that someday, someone would figure him out for what he _really_ was. Secrets, secrets were the key to happiness. Not that Loki was happy, but who the hell was these days?

Stark frowned at him. "The last time I heard a rumor, it was after my mother's death. And about my suicide attempt. I stopped listening to rumors right then and there. They hurt more than anything. Gossip isn't harmless in any shape or form." The boy growled, his eyes flashing at the memory. Loki fought to look away, he wasn't entranced by those eyes at all. God no. _Pfft_. How _absurd_. "I wanted to be _mad_ at those kids, to go beat them up and make them sorry for saying all that. But I didn't. I _laughed_ at it. I laughed because they were _right_. Cruel, but right. I had tried to kill myself. But I betrayed _myself_ when I laughed like that, because it wasn't funny. It was serious and thought-out and painful."

Something tugged on Loki's heart. He knew how it felt, to be around people who laughed at your pain. Most of the time, they did so unwittingly, but it still heart straight to the core. Loki remembered, time and again, listening to his blissfully ignorant friends make jokes about self-harm. He hadn't laughed. He hadn't pretended to be amused. But he hadn't spoken up either, and some part of him felt as if he had been a coward not to. Hadn't he had the right to be offended and hurt? Hadn't he had the right to bitch them all out for being heartless cunts? _Yes_. So, why hadn't he? Loki was not one to back down from confrontation, even if it meant getting his ass kicked. There was no explanation, except for _shame_. Secretive shame.

"Did you ever tell any of your friends what had happened?" Loki lay back on the couch, stretching out his feet and hooking one bony ankle over Anthony's thigh. A soft smile play with the other boy's lips. But he looked surprised by the question.

"_What_ friends." He scoffed. "People like me don't ever have real friends." He shrugged, eyes narrowing and staring down at his coffee. Loki wasn't sure if he should be offended, because, he wasn't sure if Anthony considered him a friend or not. Did he? Were they friends? Hell, did he even _want_ to be friends with Stark?

"People like you are wise enough to learn the difference. You _can_ have real friends." He shrugged, not really having any room to talk because -_ahem_- where were all his '_real_' friends at? Oh wait, he didn't have any.

Stark raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? How? All anyone ever wants from me is money and free booze. Which, in case you didn't know, flows like a river when a bartender sees my face." He sighed, running a hand back through his wet hair. "I guess that sounds cynical, but I learned that lesson when I was very young. I don't want to learn it again." His eyes were dark with bad memories. It seemed they both had some past issues they hadn't quite dealt with, at least not effectively.

Loki sighed, laying his head back on the couch arm. Why was life so hard on the young and ambitious? Why does it always steal the most vibrant dreams and the brightest personalities? He would bet good money that Stark had once been a beautiful, _happy_ boy. His insane humor proved that without a doubt. But there was a sardonic strain to that humor and a darkness to that gleam in his eye that told Loki there was a lot more than he could see on the surface. Stark was like an iceberg, and he was just seeing the tip that ripped through the glass surface of the seas surrounding him. If he wasn't careful, he might hit the hidden edges beneath the waters, and end up sinking to the depths. If Loki wasn't careful, he might get hurt. If Loki wasn't _careful_...he might actually start to like Stark.

When he looked up from his reverie, Stark was curled up in a ball at the end of the couch, one hand curled around Loki's lean foot like it was a teddy bear. The soft snoring was endearing in comparison to Thor's lumberjack snoring that he had been forced to live with for the first, _long_ decade of his life. Anthony's pug nose twitched, his fingers hugging Loki's ankle tighter. His brown curls tumbled against the cushion prettily, making him seem angelic. A frown drew itself on Loki's face, Stark _didn't_ deserve his father's verbal abuse. Much like he hadn't deserved his own father's abuses. Maybe it was that, that seemed to draw them together like _magnets_.

Loki sighed and lay his head back again, not fighting the sleep when it pushed his eyelids closed gently, slowly. Sleep covered him like a warm blanket, wrapping him in dreams and happier thoughts then those that troubled him in the form of a young man cuddling his foot.

* * *

"Loki?" Tony whispered, cautiously squatting beside the sleeping boy. His hair was tangled about his face in a thick black spider-web that Tony desperately wanted to move. He was inordinately curious about Loki's angular face and what it looked like when he slept. "Lo-Lo?" He sang softly, making sure the teen was very asleep before he snuck out to get them breakfast. He felt it was only right, considering he had totally _bombed_ the other boy's night by showing up at his dorm door sobbing his lungs up.

Satisfied that Loki was indeed asleep for another ten minutes at least, he slipped his shoes on and tip-toed out the door like a pro. Hey, he had been doing this since he was _ten_, for Christ's sake. Starbucks was just around the corner, but it was a fucking beautiful morning- or maybe spending the night with Loki made things look fucking _better_- and the air felt good in his weary lungs. His body felt used and abused, as one always felt after a really hard cry. The crisp morning cleared all the negative thoughts out of his mind, even if the emotions still lingered dangerously. He felt like they were eyeing him like muggers hiding in the alleys of any big city. But it was day time, muggers came out at night, right? He was safe until the sun went down.

Nevertheless, Tony has always attracted the predators that didn't quite play by the rules, and soon the thoughts were assaulting him like he was their favorite brand of _carcass_. His father's words played through his mind, and he cringed when he remembered the sorrowful look on Loki's face last night. He had been so understanding, and kind. And he swore the boy had reacted when he started talking about friends. Were they friends? Was it plausible that the teenager was willing to befriend him? After all the weeks he had been begging and pleading and dying of curiosity, would the teenager finally give in? Tony's mood lightened a little at the notion.

He was back at the dorm room almost too soon. He really hated dorms. He felt like they were the public bathrooms of housing. Kind of taken care of in a half-ass, who-the-fuck-really-cares way. Not really clean (not like his was, but he had a _maid_, for fuck's sake). And everyone living here had a kind of loud, intense sound streaming from their rooms in some form or another. Of course, there was also the matter of roommates, and Tony did _not_ do roommates. He and Howard had agreed it better that he live on his own instead of costing them far more by whatever damage he would end up doing with another person around to torment.

Loki was snoring like a kitten on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge, the other tangled in his hair. He looked impossibly sweet, Tony felt he was from some other, better world than earth. It couldn't be possible that such a being existed. And where were all these warm, cuddly feelings coming from? He had woken up with the kid's foot in his face- which, _no_, he hadn't really been as upset as he should have by that- and here he was cooing over how cute he was! What was _wrong_ with him? He was Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire. And Loki was _not_ a platinum blonde with a great rack.

"_Mmmmfff_." Loki stretched, body twisting and arms and legs reaching for _miles_. Tony bit his lip to keep himself in line. He was totally in control of himself. Loki was a dude. A pretty dude...but _no_. He was _straight_. _Maybe_. Damn. "Enjoying the view, Anthony?" Loki murmured, casting a sleepy green glare at the engineer.

Tony grinned. "Just waiting for you to awake, Sleeping Beauty. Want some coffee? And I got scones or some shit from Starbucks." He winked.

Loki groaned, burying his face in his arms as if Tony had suggested they walk to fucking Nebraska. "_Staaaaark_." Loki whined. "You're making me _fat_." He pouted, glaring at Tony under a bushy mess of black curls.

Tony almost awwed. Those curls. He looked so adorable. And he was pouting. Seriously, Loki, what are you trying to do to Tony's heart here? "_Yeah_, Loki, you're _huge_." He rolled his eyes. "If you gained ten pounds, I could still pick you up and throw you across the room." He scoffed.

Loki's serpentine green eyes narrowed. "I'd like to see you _try_." He dared, his eyes just as challenging as they could humanly be. And Tony _never_ backs down from a challenge.

He was across the room and had Loki draped in his arms before Loki had time to react. It was actually a little thrilling to hold the chilly, squirming teenager so close. He smelled of mint and evergreens so strongly it made Tony a little heady. His hair was feather-soft against his arm and even _darker_ this close, so that it looked like Loki had spilled ink into his thick curls.

"_Anthony_! Put me down this _instant_!" Loki squeaked, his nails digging into Tony's back in feline terror.

"Hush. I won't drop you, kitty-cat." He giggled at the violent glare Loki gave him for the nickname. "Besides, I haven't thrown you across the room..._yet_." He backed away from the couch, the lithe teenager still clinging to him like he was going to fall ten stories instead of a few measly feet if Tony dropped him.

"Stark, don't you _dare_. I will cut off something you _love_." He threatened, venom dripping in his words.

Normally, that would have merely egged Tony on. But, he was in a gracious mood considering how kind Loki had been the previous night. So, he feigned dropping the scared teenager- getting what would probably be _holes_ in his back from those damn, sharp nails- then gently set him on his feet. Loki scowled, straightening his ruffled clothes, which were still wrinkly from spending the night fully dressed.

"I _hate_ you." Loki growled, sounding like a bear. He _obviously_ wasn't a morning person.

Tony grinned. "Sure ya do. I brought you breakfast. It's against the law to hate someone who brings you breakfast." But, his entreaties were ignored. This was Loki. Laws? What laws?

He got a narrow glare for his troubles. To be fair, Tony was trying to be loveable. He just wasnt used to the capricious teenager's mood swings, nor was he capable of anticipating and preparing himself for them. But, who could? The boy went from sunshine to dark as death in .05 seconds, and Tony just couldn't keep up. He made it his new goal in life to find out just what made Loki Odinson tick.

They were standing far too close for comfort, and the heat trickling across Tony's skin like raindrops was almost too much to handle. Those green eyes were smoldering and god damn it, everything was just too hot. He was starting to feel that prickly beginning of sweat on his forehead and neck. Just one step and he could kiss that boy. It was the first time he had ever thought that about another of the same sex. Really, he wasn't gay. Maybe they were both just too vulnerable, maybe-

"Loki, you know- Tony?" Steve burst through the door, making Tony jolt like he had been shocked by lightning. "What are you doing here?" The confusion on the quarterbacks face was priceless.

"Good morning, Steve." Loki purred civilly, flashing Tony a huge grin. Yes, Loki, you've got 'Anthony' in an awkward situation. You're so clever to live with Steve for just such occasions.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I brought Loki breakfast. Figured maybe he'd hate me a little less for it." He grinned as he watched Loki sniff his coffee cautiously.

His green eyes snapped to Tony's. "Who told you what coffee I like?" He demanded, his eyes flashing. He really didn't like people talking about him behind his back. Tony filed that away for future reference.

"No one." He shrugged. "I just figured you liked one of those girly latte thingies." He smiled at the dark scowl he got in reply. "So, whatcha been up to, Stevie?" He purposely called him this because Rodgers had once mentioned it made him sound like a flaming homosexual. He blushed every time he called him that sense.

"Uh. Nothing. Did you just get here?" His blue eyes were judgmental. He could tell Tony was lying. Damn it.

"Oh my god. Steve, he spent the night." Loki rolled his eyes, exasperated. "And no, we aren't having sex. Nor are we dating. He came over, we watched TV. We both fell asleep because late night TV is that boring. Now stop asking stupid, convoluted questions." He growled. Yep. Definitely not a morning person.

Tony flashed a million-dollar smile at Steve that would make him second-guess Loki's claim against sex. What did Tony care? He already had a reputation. And Steve's mind always went straight to the gutter when it came to his salacious friend. Might as well have fun with it. "So, where were you all night, Steve?" Tony bit into a scone. Mmm. This was practically a sin. "Playing with your girlfriend? I'm sure it was all pure and chaste." Tony snorted.

Steve huffed, face going cherry red. Loki snickered. "I- I was with the guys." Steve raised his chin proudly.

"Mmhmm. Okay, Stevie. This is a great time to prove you're straight, y'know. Brag about all that action I know you got last night. It'll clear your name." He teased, Loki now full-on laughing beside him.

"Shut up, Stark. There's only one person who needs to know I'm straight. And she knows, trust me." Steve growled. Then turned on his heel and stomped into his room. The door banged against it's frame loudly, making Loki and Tony giggle like children.

Fact #4: Loki enjoys pushing people's buttons. Maybe even more than he enjoys avoiding their presence. It's honestly the only reason he even has a semblance of a social life.

Tony studied Loki for a moment, watching the way he picked at his food like he would suddenly put on three hundred pounds if he ate like a normal person- not that Tony could even claim to eat like someone remotely normal. It almost worried Tony. The boy had major self-esteem issues. He wanted to fix that. Loki was gorgeous, someone needed to remind him of that. But Tony had the feeling Loki wouldn't take to kindly to it here and now. It burned on his tongue, but he stifled it, swallowing it down with the coffee.

"You're gawking, Stark." Loki admonished, turning his eyes on full power. Stark swallowed his heart, which had leaped into his throat.

"Does that bother you, your highness?" He purred, leaning closer to the glaring teen.

"What if it does?" He challenged. And, damn, this kid just loved to search for the boundaries, he just didn't realize yet that Tony didn't really have any.

"Then I'll back off and you'll never find me staring at your gorgeous ass again." Oops.

Loki's eyebrows lifted. "I was never particularly fond of my ass, but I suppose you like it enough for the both of us, hmm?" Something cynical reached his eyes. "Do you think I'm gay, Stark?" Damn. Back to Stark. Although, he had never really committed to Tony's first name.

Tony sighed. "I don't know. Hell, right now, I don't even know what my orientation is." Oops. Time for his meds, he was talking way too freely, saying everything that popped into his beehive of a brain. It wasn't siphoning his thoughts correctly.

Loki looked shocked. "Really? With all those sluts you've slept with? I'd think you'd have plenty of experience to base your decision on." he murmured, toying with his food again.

Tony eyed him. "So, you believe the rumors, eh?" He sighed. He had always hated the public perception of his spiral into full-on degeneration. Destructive behaviors existed in many shapes and sizes, why was sex the one that everyone always zeroed in on? Couldn't they bitch and moan about his drinking problem, or that time he had tried heroin, or _anything_ besides how many times he had sex a week?

Loki looked at him guiltily. "Every friend I has talk about how much of an ingrate you are for having sex almost nightly." He shrugged. "I try to tune it out." He cringed.

Tony laughed. "You and me both. But no, I don't have sex nightly. Most of the time I'm in my fucking lab." He scoffed. "People always assume the worst." He scowled at his coffee. "You know, Loki, being famous certainly has its cons. One being that people are always consumed with your life, and if you make one mistake, they except you to repeat it and make more. They expect drama and pain and misery, because that's what _sells_. Reporting that I'm spending a night up to my ears in grease and my tools won't garner half the attention that me spending a night in Vegas with a pretty girl on my arm will."

Loki frowned. "I know. You do realize that you can't _do_ anything in Vegas. You're too young." He pointed out, ever the master of details.

Tony laughed, like, hard, hysterical laughter. "Babe, I'm _Tony Stark_. I challenge you to find a bartender who _won't_ serve to me, or a casino that _won't_ let me gamble." He smiled, a fake, almost painful smile. No one was looking out for Tony, not even he himself. It was just a matter of time until he slipped over the edge, and_ no one would notice_.

Loki's mouth twisted in what looked like a pained expression. "That's awful. People serve to an underage kid, they should go to jail." He criticized.

Tony shrugged. "There are other ways to get booze. I've tried hard to drown my demons, Loki. But they know how to swim. And no bartender can fix that."

The look Loki gave him would have broken a weaker man.

* * *

Loki felt like a zombie. Just _moving_ took concerted effort. And having Tony next to him, fawning over him and fussing like an old woman was not helping. At all. It did, however, make him feel pretty certain he had just enough energy to murder the man before he became catatonic. His lips twisted into a snarl.

"I mean, Steve, come on. How was I supposed to know you two lived together. You never mentioned it. And we're friends, _only_, so it's not like you walked in on me humping him," And who had said he would _bottom_, for Christ's sake. **_Wait_**. "Or anything awkward like that. And even if you had, don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction? I mean-"

"Anthony, would you kindly _SHUT UP_?" He snapped, his mouth moving far faster than his brain could even conceive of moving. God. Sleep was _necessary_ for Loki. It just was. No ifs, ands, or buts.

"No. _That_ was an overreaction." Steve murmured. Loki shot him a glare that really should have turned him to _blessedly_ silent ash.

_Ow_. He was starting to get a migraine. Fantastic.

Stark was looking at him with worry lacing the perfect, crinkly lines around his eyes. Brown eyes. Like molten chocolate. Cue mental sigh. "Loki, really, you should take the day off. What if you're getting sick?" He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. Loki totally didn't notice the way his muscles rippled. Totally didn't.

"I'm not- _achoo!_- **_ugh_**." He glared blearily at the _I-fucking-told-you-so_ look on Stark's face. He wondered idly if it would hurt him or Stark more to punch the cocky engineer.

"Yeah, you two have some heart-to-heart. I'm going to class." Oh _yeah_, Steve, because their 'heart-to-hearts' _always_ start with glares and nagging.

...well, maybe that wasn't _entirely_ false...

Stark glared at him for Loki. Because Loki truly didn't have the energy. Hazy, he leaned against Anthony's arm. The shock in the other boy was amusing, but Loki was too tired to really care at this point. "Would caffeine help?" He whined, consulting the only person he knew who actually drank coffee in large quantities. Or maybe it was just that Anthony drank enough caffeine to kill a large horse that made him consult him.

Stark laughed. "I don't think so. You need to go home, Loki. You _can_ miss one day of classes, I promise." He allowed Loki to rub his disgustingly snotty nose on his sleeve. Aw. Ew.

"Take me home, Anthony." He whimpered, completely ignoring the boy's reaction to his perhaps ill-considered use of wording and dropping his backpack and sinking to the ground. Everything was spinny. "I'm dizzy." He murmured.

"Loki!" Odin's voice rang across the campus.

For once, Loki seriously considered cursing. Like, _out loud_. Yep, he needed to sleep, _badly_. Anthony's hand on his shoulder tensed along with Loki's whole body like it was just an extension of Loki. "Uh." The boy looked frantic, completely uncertain of what to do.

"It's alright. Go to class, darling." He murmured, allowing Stark to haul him back to his feet.

His stomach flipped and the world spun. Fabulous.

Stark gave him one last concerned look, then reluctantly did as he was told. That was the fantastic thing about Anthony, he always followed orders like a lost puppy. Whatever Loki said was taken as law. It was nice to be in charge of at least one relationship for once. Speaking of which...

"Hello, Odin." He gingerly picked up his too-heavy backpack. What was even in this thing? Gods.

"Son. Where's your brother?" He demanded, completely skipping over the whole '_How've you been, son?_' part. Loki rolled his eyes and sighed as if this was just so tedious even talking to the man.

"Well, since you came during class time, I'd assume he's _in_ _class_." Loki replied wearily. At least he sounded more condescending than exhausted.

"You might want to watch your _tone_, Loki." Odin snarled.

"How about you go find your _perfect_ angel and leave me the hell alone." _Oooh_. Loki used a _bad_ word. This was serious.

Odin scowled at him darkly. "You need an attitude adjustment, boy." And if that didn't irk Loki, nothing did. He hated being referred to as a '_boy_'. He was not a little boy any longer. Nor had he been for some time now.

"I don't care. I don't want you around me, Odin. I don't know where Thor is. Go find him yourself. When and if you ever want to have a relationship, then maybe I'll consider being anything less than the same level of a jackass as you are." Another bad word, he was on a _roll_ today. Seriously, he _must_ be ill. Words like these just did not come out of his mouth.

Odin was turning red. Never something that bode well. _Never_. "Loki, I am losing my patience with your rebellious, insolent attitude quickly. I haven't done anything wrong to you. Never." He snapped, sounding like a bulldog. "Now, perhaps you'd like to rephrase your response." He put his hands on his hips and glared at Loki with his one eye and his eye patch. And _yes_, for the record, Loki felt that thing glared just as much as his eye. It was _freaky_.

But instead of complying, as he normally would have, Loki straightened his back and looked directly into Odin's eye. "No. I wouldn't. And for the record, you've wronged me plenty of times, Odin. And I won't forgive you until you recognize that fact. You don't deserve my honor or respect, and you won't get it. I will not allow you to bully me into submission just because you have an ego and too much pride for your own good." Loki spouted. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just be _quiet_, for once in his life? More drama. _Ugh_.

"Loki!" The sharp tone of Odin's grating voice made Loki's brain light on fire. "That is _enough_. I am your father, whether you like that fact or not. And whether you respect and honor me or not, you will act as though you do in my presence. Is that understood?" Like, oh yeah, Odin, he's gonna back down _now_. -snort-

"I will do what I want. Is _that_ understood, Odin?" He snarled, sounding feral and wild and out of control. And maybe he was. Maybe he had become a little unhinged, somewhere along the way. It wasn't inconceivable.

Odin slammed one stubby finger against his chest. Loki barely caught himself before he went sprawling. The man was twice his size. "You will clean up your act, Loki Odinson, or I'll clean it up _for_ you." Odin warned, then brushed past him to go find his darling Thor.

Loki seethed quietly to himself for a moment, realizing he was late for class and might as well not even go. Pulling out his phone, he texted Thor to warn him Odin might be coming barreling through the classroom door at any moment. Then he sighed, ran his hand back through his hair, and started trudging home. He needed a mug of hot chocolate piled high with marshmallows and he needed his bed. _Now_.

* * *

When Tony got out of class, he headed straight for the lab. But not the lab here, oh _no_. That shit wasn't nearly high-tech enough. He went to his father's lab. Because, yeah, he's a defiant ass and he needs his high-tech shit when he's upset and his mind is whirring all wrong. And this type of whirring was even _worse_ than the normal, every-day, driving-him-nuts whirring.

The lab his father had was filled to the brim with all kinds of cool stuff one would find in an over-priced man-cave. Mostly because, well, that's what it was. Not that his dad was even nearly as genius as he was when it came to inventing, and really, the man was hardly down here anymore. It filled the entire basement level of the Stark mansion. Different posters from many eras hung on the wall, including some of Tony's favorite band posters. He ran a hand along them as he moseyed down the hallway to the main event. In the machine-clogged, grease-stained, smoke-yellowed (yes, he had blown things up in here many times) room, Tony found a _haven_. There was even an espresso machine he had demanded Howard install a few years ago.

Then...his phone rang. Obadiah. Plus, he had a few texts. He considered ignoring the call for the texts, but eventually decided Obie had done nothing against him..._yet_. And answered. "'Sup, Stane?" He answered, kicking a few different machines to life and contemplating how sadly inadequate they were. He needed to create something that responded to voice and touch, without all this clunky machinery that he had to manually work himself.

"Hi, Tony. Are you at the mansion?" There was an odd, manipulative tone to Obie's voice. Tony was immediately on guard.

"Uh. Yeah. _Why_?" Tony tinkered with the espresso machine, shooing gathering dust from the metal.

"Well, there's been a huge fire on the college campus. They're busing people to the hospital now. It's on TV." Obie informed him.

Tony dropped the phone and ran for the TV. He turned it on to the news and felt his heart _drop_. Loki and Steve's dorm was one of the buildings on fire. He was pretty sure Barton was bunking down there too.

He was in his father's fastest car and headed toward campus before he could process a single thought. If something happened to Loki...his heart was pumping too **_fast_**.

* * *

**CLIFFHANGER. xoxoxoxoxo I'm sorry, guys. So, so sorry. Love me anyways? Yes? No? Maybe? **

** Yes, I am totally aware this chapter is all over the place. Its been an emotional few days. So, maybe that transfers? Maybe in a good way? No? Ok. **

** Please review. Tell me I'm a shit writer. I can take it. No, I can't. -hugs-**

** I LOVE YOU ALL. XO**


	7. 7 Puzzle Pieces

**Okay, so THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! I love you all so very much xoxox. Now. **

** Be very prepared, this is a bit of a...angst thing. Because, I don't know. I was in the mood. **

** Tissues may be necessary. **

** Enjoy~**

* * *

Loki woke up coughing and disoriented. He was sweating and the air was too thick to breathe. What the...

_Smoke_.

He sat up, eyes wild and heart hammering in his chest. Smoke clogged the air, clouding his vision and _suffocating_ him. The room was already a _sauna_. Sirens wailed in the distance. The building creaked and groaned loudly around him, the fire was already raging. He was up and out of the bed in a split second. In passing, he grabbed a scarf off his desk and tied it around his mouth and nose. He and Steve nearly collided when he burst through his door and almost face-first into Steve's chest. Their eyes met, and _why_ was the big quarterback still here? He must have overslept.

They sprinted for the door, they had to get out of here. _Now_. Steve grabbed the doorknob then jerked his hand back with a loud curse. The door knob was hot. That meant fire had already taken over the hallway. Loki felt like his heart was going to _explode_ from the adrenaline racking his body. They were three stories up. _How were they going to get out now_?! Hysteria was about to set in. Steve grabbed his hand. It forced him to calm down and think. He couldn't go insane just yet. Wits about him. That was the most important thing to remember. Stay calm. Well, as calm as one can be when trapped in a burning dorm building.

"What do we do?" He asked, his blue eyes wide and pupils dilated with fear. It was a little horrifying to see big, strong Steve scared.

Loki almost screamed. He couldn't handle this. "We have to break the door down and take our chances, I guess." His voice was rough from the havoc the smoke was wreaking on his throat. It was much like that time he had tried smoking, only a _thousand_ times worse.

Steve nodded. "Go over there. I'll do it." He hacked, coughing hard and long. Gods.

Loki raced to hide behind the corner. This was the most awful thing he had ever experienced. A loud bang slammed against his eardrums. "_Fuck_." He murmured, feeling the blast of heat from the fire rushing in to claim what little oxygen was left in the room. The air felt forcibly sucked from his lungs, leaving him to cough up his windpipe.

"_C'mon, Loki_!" Steve called. Loki forced his petrified limbs to move.

_Keep moving. You gotta get out of here._

They ran down the hallway, slamming on the breaks at the stairway. It was being _eaten_ by flames. The big picture window above the stairs had blown out, and tendrils of the fire was thrashing at the oxygen from outside. Loki could barely breathe through the heat and billowing smoke. He was shaking from the adrenaline and hammering pulse beating against his veins. The stairs were the _only_ way out. He and Steve looked at each other, shrugging. It was either chance getting burned or die for sure.

Loki went first, tripping and stumbling around the flames. He felt something hot and angry bite into his arm, but he was racing downward too fast to care. Finally at the ground level, he jumped off the third stair and went running, hearing Steve behind him like a locomotive. The lobby was bright orange and red with flames, throwing demonic shadows everywhere. Loki could barely concentrate on how to get out of here. Everything was distorted by panic and shadows and _fire_. The heat scorched his skin painfully, and his arm was still screaming at him in agony. But all Loki could even consider was the door, getting out of here, _surviving_.

Sprinting through the flames was excruciating and by the time he got out the door, he felt like he was being_ eaten alive_ by fire. Steve tackled him to the ground, rubbing his arm and rolling him back and forth. Someone was _screaming_. Like an anguished, _blood-curdling_ scream.

It was _him_.

* * *

Tony sped towards the college, his radio blasting. He didn't even hear it, his heart was beating too loudly. He could see big black clouds of smoke billowing in the wind above the campus. The tires screamed as he hit the breaks outside the caution tape. The car left running, he bolted under the tape, looking wildly around for Loki or Thor or someone he god damn knew. Ambulances were everywhere, some with names of counties he had never even heard of. But the building, _fuck_. The building looked like a monster, flames coming out of at least half the windows and the fire raging almost audibly. That big window above the staircase to Loki's room was blown out too, fires coming out of it like living creatures. His heart stopped.

Firemen were running, policemen were trying to keep people in order; those who needed help their only concern. The place was a fucking mad house. He couldn't find anyone. The more time that went on, the closer he was to having a fucking panic attack.

_Where._

_Was._

_Loki._

Then he saw Thor. _Thor_. He had never been so happy to see motherfucking Thor. "_THOR_!" He yelled, praying to be heard above the whirling chaos. The man turned, blue eyes filled to the brim with worry.

_ Shit_.

"Anthony! Have you seen my brother?" The man ran to him, grabbing his shoulders so tightly Tony thought for a pain-filled moment that he might crush him.

Then someone screamed, high and full of _pain._ Thor's head whipped around, looking for the source of the blood-boiling sound. Tony saw them first.

He ripped out of Thor's grip and started racing towards the dorms before he could fully process what he was doing. Loki was on fire and Steve was practically beating him to put it out. He had his jacket off and was pressing it down on Loki's arm the second he skidded to his knees beside them. Both boys had black faces and tears were streaming from under Loki's squeezed shut eyelids.

EMTs were running their way and Tony was soon shoved out of the way by the nurses and guys with a gurney. Thor was holding Loki's hand although the teenager had stopped screaming only to whimper and cry and look around with pain-dulled green eyes that made Tony want to puke. As the gurney started to wheel away, Tony realized Loki was looking at him. Tears still tracking pretty pale lines down his grim-covered face. After he was loaded into an ambulance, Tony bent over and gave up his lunch to the rose bushes that were now covered in ash and falling embers from the fire still raging on the campus.

Steve's hand rubbed his back, and the big quarterback sunk to the ground with him. "Are you okay?" He asked Tony. Fuck, shouldn't this be the other way around?

Tony nodded numbly. "You?" He gave the big blonde a once-over. No burned skin, no scorched clothing, no eyebrows.

"Yep, I'm alright. Loki really got the worst, it appears. Do you know how all this got started?" Steve asked the one logical question that Tony hadn't even considered.

He looked around, assessing the fire and the buildings being consumed relentlessly. It was gold, and orange, and crimson, and cherry. It danced like it was alive. It was beautiful and ugly. He hated it and it awed him. He had always had this relationship with fire. Chemical burns lined his arms and hands, scarring his tan skin with pale lines and blotches and designs. There was a story for each discoloration.

"I bet it was some idiot in the lab. The building the lab is in is almost gone." His eyes locked on the shuddering building that was starting to concave. Firemen kept people well away from it, but spectators did _love_ a show.

Steve nodded, not even looking at the fire anymore. "Where were you?" There was that ever-present hint of suspicion in his voice that Tony had come to abhor. Couldn't anyone look at him without seeing _addict_? Or _drunk_? Or _druggie_?

Tony sighed, flopping back on the grass with the huff of breath. He could smell the fragrant coffee he had been drinking not even an hour ago tint the air around his face. It was quickly replaced by the odor of burning everything. "My da- Howard's lab. I needed some big boy toys. The kind the college can't afford." He shrugged, dragging his shoulders painfully on the hard ground beneath him. Funny how pain always seemed to make him feel better. Maybe that's why he never wore protective gloves or goggles in the lab when things were certain to blow up. Maybe that's why he only played with things that blew up when he was upset.

Steve regarded him with narrow blue eyes. "Let's go. I want to see if everyone else is okay." He stood, extending a hand down to Tony.

He just stared up at the gentle giant blankly. _Everyone else_. People that Steve cared about, but Tony's only concern was on his way to the hospital right now. Damn, he could use something very, _very_ strong to drink right now. Instead, he took Steve's hand and ignored his worried gaze. He could deal with his own issues later. Right now, he needed to do what he could to help Steve, then check in with Thor to make sure Loki was okay.

On the other hand, he could ditch the captain of the football team and go get drunk. Then, in the morning, he could check on Loki. Hmm. Then Steve looked at him with those big, blue, sad eyes surrounded by smut and smelling like smoke and _fuck_. He couldn't leave now. God damn, he was a sucker for pretty eyes.

* * *

Loki woke up and almost screamed. The light was _bright_. Where was he? The _SUN_?

"Brother?" Thor's soft voice had dialed down from god-of-thunder pitch to church mouse. It was a _blessed_ improvement.

Loki groaned. _Everything_ hurt. His arm _really_ hurt. Like, white-hot sparks behind his eyelids and hot fire-pokers sticking deep into his skin and burrowing into his bone pain. And- oh, _ow_- moving intensified that about a thousand times over. He had to bite down on his lip- _ew_, was that _blood_?- to keep from screaming. Again. If he remembered correctly. And if he wasn't mistaken, he was so drugged he could be hallucinating this whole thing.

"Loki? Are you okay?" Okay, he probably needed to at least _pretend_ to recognize Thor or the boy might lose his mind with worry. He cracked one eye open, then groaned again. He wondered how painful it would be to smother himself with a pillow.

"Thor, what are you doing?" A sleepy female voice murmured. Frigga. Oh, thank _god_. His mommy was here.

"Momma?" Loki croaked, slitting his eyes open just enough to make out a blurry image of his beautiful, golden-haired mother.

"Shh, darling. Do you want some water? Just nod or shake your head, sweetie." She leaned over him, brushing his sweaty- _disgusting_- bangs off his forehead and sending Thor off to get some ice. When he nodded, a cool cup was pressed against his lips and he felt cool liquid rush down his scratchy throat to rest like winter in his empty stomach. "You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?" The bed dipped slightly when she sat at the edge and looked down at him with a mother's loving concern.

"Yeah." Ew. His voice sounded awful. So much for silky smooth. "I remember the fire. I don't really remember much after Steve tackled me." He raised his uninjured hand to touch his throat. God, how much smoke had he inhaled? He sounded like a century-long smoker. Or worse.

"Your arm was burned pretty badly, sweetheart. And you passed out from the pain." Okay, if he hadn't been in an _excruciating_ amount of pain, that might've been embarrassing. "And you also have a slight concussion. The doctors want to keep you here for the night, and maybe tomorrow. But they say you'll be alright. No skin graphs. Just lots of rest." She smiled and pressed a wonderfully cool hand to his cheek.

He nodded, happy that the burns weren't too bad. Apparently, he was _extremely_ aware of pain, because his arm felt like he would need skin graphs for miles. And new bone marrow too. _Ow_.

"You need to get some rest, darling. I'll be here when you wake up." She helped him nestle under the hospital blankets comfortably- well, as comfortably as one could be with an arm that screamed agony- and shushed Thor when he came soldiering in. Odin had taught that boy well.

Loki smirked at his brother sleepily and sent him a hazy green-eyed wink, then drifted off to sleep on waves of morphine.

* * *

Tony glared at the nurse. "_Look_, lady. I don't want to _see_ him. I just want to know if he's _okay_." It was taking way too much energy to explain this. He was hungover. Why hadn't he just _called_, for fuck's sake?

"Stark?" A thunderous voice exclaimed delightedly behind him.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. He could not deal with Thor's over-flowing cheer today.

"Hiya, big guy." He smiled, albeit, a very shaky, sunglassed smile. Yes, he was wearing shades. Inside. Because god damn were lights _painful_. "How's Loki?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and focused on not swaying. Was he still drunk? Maybe a _little_.

Thor's smile dulled. "He's alright. Mostly he makes me stay out here because he says my voice is too loud. Would you like to see -"

"No. _No_. **_No_**." Tony shook his head too fast and nearly flinched at the white-hot pain that exploded behind his eyes. _Oof_. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay. You know, no amputated appendages and all that jazz." He shrugged, kind of wondering what had possessed him to come to the fucking hospital in the first place. That's what _cell phones_ are for, _duh_.

Thor frowned. "He would probably like to see you. You have a nice voice, or so he thinks." A grin started to develop on the neanderthal's face. "Not to mention, I'm sure my mother would like to meet you."

_Whoa_. Parents? Tony didn't do parents. "Uh. You know, I really don't think that'd be a good idea, Thor." Couldn't he see Tony was dealing with the hangover of a lifetime, here? C'mon, Thor, you've been drunk before.

Then he did what he had seen and fallen prey to all too many times in his short life. Thor morphed into a sad puppy dog before his fucking eyes. "_Please_, Tony? He really needs someone to cheer him up." The blonde mountain begged. Bitterly, Tony realized he had the eyes of a fucking golden retriever. A _sad_ golden retriever, nonetheless.

"_Fine_." He growled, wishing for all the world it didn't hurt like a bullet-to-the-head to grit his teeth.

He let Thor lead him towards Loki's room, feeling his skin crawl. He remembered the last time he had been here. Fourteen years old, waking up and expecting death only to find a bright, white, cold hospital instead. Failure, again. He shook his head, now was not the time to relive childhood trauma. It would be filed away for later, when he could _properly_ torture himself about his past mistakes.

"Loki, you have a visitor!" Loki flinched in unison with Tony at the sheer decibel of Thor's joy. "Tony's here."

Shock registered in emerald eyes that- thank _god_- were not glazed over by pain. Tony wasn't sure his heart could have endured that again. Or his already unhappy stomach, for that matter. "_Stark_. Hello." His voice was scratchy and completely wasted from the smoke.

"Hi." He waved awkwardly, noticing the woman by Loki's bed, who was smiling at him with eyes all too wise for his comfort. She had a pretty face, and blue eyes that were a gentle version of Thor's. Huh. "I'm Tony." He held out a hand to shake her's. Her grip was firm, but her skin soft. She smelled like honeysuckle. Just like his mother had the last time he hugged her. The memory had the room spinning, but he stayed upright.

"I believe my husband works with your...father?" She questioned, smiling pleasantly.

He smiled stiffly. "There are few people who _don't_ work with my father, ma'am." Loki's green eyes flickered fleetingly. He shifted uncomfortably. "I really just came to make sure Loki was okay. I wasn't intending to intrude. I'm sure you need your sleep." Okay, time to leave. _Now_. And _god help_ Thor if he got in his way or-

"Wait, Stark. Mother, Thor, could you give us a moment." And god damn, Tony was _scared_ of that tone. Loki's voice was even more threatening when it was rough and deep.

Thor and Frigga obediently vacated the room. Leaving Tony standing awkwardly at the end of the bed, closer to the door really, and fidgeting like a crack addict. He looked _anywhere_ but at Loki. Anywhere. Because, if there was one time when all of Tony's sparkling, gilded charm abandoned him, it was when he was with Loki. The boy was his _kryptonite_.

"Are you going to look at me? I'm sure the furnishings aren't _nearly_ as interesting a view." Loki's voice was laced with contemptuous amusement. Tony felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Why are you _really_ here?" His shrewdness was a little irritating sometimes, but Tony was actually pretty sure he knew that.

"Like I said, to check up on you. Make sure you were still alive and all." He shrugged, letting his eyes fall to travel across one sprawling leg. One batman-sock-encased toe peeked out from under the sheets. It wasn't easy to stifle the smile that wanted to spread across his face.

"Maybe that's what you _want_ it to be, but there are such things as phones, Stark." His haughty tone wasn't what irritated Tony, it was his refusal to call him anything but his last name. That fucking name he _hated_. And Loki _knew_ it. That cute, uppity little shit.

"I'm hungover, if you must know. Clear thinking isn't really my strong suit right now." He growled, his eyes following the leg up to his hips. Tony could see the thin boy's hip bones protruding even from here. God. Someone give him a sandwich.

Loki was silent- _what_, Loki, wordless?- for a few moments. Tony's gaze traveled further, taking in his pale, snowy neck, his inhuman jawline, his bright red lips, his glaring green eyes. "You know, I can see your eyes through those sunglasses." A devilish smirk grew on his face when Tony felt the blush burn his cheeks. But he _refused_ to do anything but smile. If there was one thing Tony would never admit shame for, it was checking out a hot body. And let's just say, no one would _ever_ call Loki homely.

But, it did clear up matters to Tony. He wasn't here because he was hungover. It was much more than that, although, let's be truthful, that _had_ certainly attributed to it somewhat. He was here because he actually _cared_ about how Loki was. Physically as well as mentally. Getting caught on fire isn't something you just smile through. He knew from experience.

"Still gonna use all that convenient alcohol for an excuse?" Tony began to feel a little nauseous, and something changed on Loki's face. "Bathroom's that way." He pointed to a door on the other side of the room.

Tony _ran_.

* * *

Loki laid back on the bed after Anthony, a bit green after his stint hugging the toilet, had left. Things rambled around in his head that he didn't really want to think about. The primary being: '_Where's Odin?_'

Now, normally, Loki didn't really care where his father was or what he was doing or even why he wasn't paying attention to his youngest. The teenager had figured that out pretty early in life, quite frankly. But this was _different_. Loki had just been in a _life-or-death_ situation and had the ever-loving _hell_ burned out of his arm. Nevertheless, Odin had yet to show his face other than the first hour or so he had been conscious, and even that had just been to tell Frigga goodbye. Loki hadn't been quite lucid at that point. Morphine was a _powerful_ drug.

Thor snuck in, coming to sit beside the bed and study Loki unabashedly. "Can I help you?" Loki snarled, giving his brother a feral, green-eyed glare. He wondered, idly, if this would always be their relationship: acerbic Loki being condescending to bright, innocent Thor? He supposed so.

"I wish I looked like you, sometimes. Girls are always chattering about how beautiful you are." The boy admitted honestly. "You're so unique. It makes me feel so very ordinary."

Loki couldn't keep his surprise off his face. "_What_?" He was dumbfounded, to say the least. There were no girls itching to date him, no comments about his beauty. Wait...was he hallucinating? Was his mind trying to comfort itself during this admittedly traumatic time?

Thor just nodded, pulling his own long blond hair back into a ponytail. "Momma always said you were _special_. I mean, I know it hurts you how dad treats you. But you're different Loki, while I am nothing more than _ordinary_, a reincarnation of my father."

Loki stared in pure, unadulterated shock. He couldn't believe his ears. Really, he didn't _believe_ he was hearing this. Something was _wrong_, they needed to get a doctor in here because Loki was _finally_ losing his mind. "Thor, are you..._kidding_ _me_?" He could barely spit the words out. "I'm the odd one out. I don't fit! It's not fun being different. It may look like it, but trust me, it's no cake-walk." He sighed. "I always wanted to fit in to the family. To be a little blond-haired, blue-eyed reincarnation of someone. But I'm _not_. I don't fit into this puzzle." He scrubbed his face with the hand that wasn't aching like it had just been run over by a _train_.

"Don't say that..." Thor whined, sounding like a kicked puppy. Loki knew it was hard for him to hear that his little brother had never felt he belonged, because all Thor had ever wanted was for Loki to be happy. Just like he was. Even if he did deal with a little bit of envy, which honestly didn't make Loki feel better. It made him feel like he was being _lied_ to, although his sixth sense screamed that Thor was being truthful and blunt about his feelings.

The door opened and the formerly absent father-figure stepped inside. Really, had anyone in this family heard of knocking, personal space, or privacy? Loki sighed, averting his eyes to the sheet his fingers were toying with. It had always been this way. Loki feeling small and insignificant before his powerful father, fidgeting and acting like he knew he was just an _insect_ Odin could squash at any time. It had always been there, even in his most defiant moments. Even when he rebelled with all his heart. He still felt so _small_, so _unimportant_, so _worthless_. The thoughts raged on, until he finally realized that Thor and Odin were actually speaking, and probably had been for a good five minutes while he dazed out.

"...Doesn't want to." Thor was saying, a stubborn look on his face. Loki really wished he hadn't been daydreaming, and fought the instinct to again blame his attention issues on the morphine.

Odin looked positively stormy. _Uh oh_. Thor had stood up to their father? Interesting. Of course, the only way Thor would defy Odin's wishes were if it involved one person, and only one person. _Loki_. Fabulous.

"Who doesn't want to what?" He smiled sweetly at his elder brother, using all that little brother charm that only works if you're Loki and your big brother is Thor.

Thor melted, as customary. Odin, on the other hand, was a different story. "You're going to be living with your brother on campus." The big, eye-patch adorned man informed him.

Oh, _hell_ no.

"_Pardon_?" His voice was incredulous and bratty and pompous and all those wonderful things Loki tended to be when he was _royally_ pissed. Mostly because he felt he had license to be a diva after all those _precious_ childhood experiences. "I will _not_ be living with Thor. I will have my own dorm room with someone I am not _related_ to as my roommate. You agreed to this a year ago, Odin." The tone in his voice threatened that a helluva _shit-storm_ was on the horizon if Odin denied him his one great joy in life..._freedom_.

It wasn't that Loki didn't love Thor, or enjoy being in his presence. But Loki is a solitary creature. Thor is _anything_ but. That tended to interfere at times, especially when the big oaf decided he wanted _nothing_ more than to be within ten feet of his baby bro _24/7_. That usually turned Loki into a big, pissy, flustered _mess_. And really, I think we all know Loki is a mess without any added exacerbation.

"Yes, you are staying with him. Loki, you're going to need help. The _doctor_ said this would be best." The flinty blue eye glared at him darkly. Oh, _coldness_? Two could play that game.

"Guess what, Odin. I got a few of your traits, although god knows how. Stubborn pigheadedness and refusal to listen to the wisdom of others. I'll take my chances without nurse Thor." He snarled, his eyes turning into ice-storms. Because when Loki got mad, he swore his core temperature dropped to -30 degrees.

Thor was looking back and forth between them as they argued like they were playing a tennis match. The look on his face clearly stated that he had _absolutely no_ _idea_ what to do, and for once, Loki was just _so_ happy his brother had lost capability of speech. If he had opened his big mouth, Loki might have torn out his vocal chords.

"This isn't a _choice_, Loki. You're staying with Thor, and that's final." Odin snapped. And really, that was a _big_ mistake. Nothing was ever final until Loki said so. The boy would argue with a deaf man.

Loki laughed. "I do what I want, old man." He growled, the laughter still ringing through his scratchy voice. Maybe he was getting a little hysterical, because really, there was nothing funny about this situation at all. Or maybe it had simply come to the point where Loki learned it was better to laugh than cry.

"Be _very_ careful, son. You're treading on thin ice." The threat mingled with Odin's voice was enough to make Loki want to punch someone. Someone with white hair and an eye-patch, who weighed about three times what Loki did.

The teenager let his own voice drop. "_Ice_? I'm the _king_ of ice, Odin. Don't you know that yet?" He giggled. What was scary about this whole argument was quickly becoming Loki's nonchalance and indifference. The new objective in his drug-addled mind was to irritate Odin till he snapped. Probably not the _best_ idea considering that when Odin snapped, he tended to lash out with his _fists_.

The man shook his head, his face growing so red it was almost _purple_. "I'm _not_ having this argument with you. Thor will help you move your stuff later tonight." Then he was turning away, turning his back to Loki because he thought he was bed-ridden (and okay, he _technically_ was). But that was not _acceptable_ to Loki.

"I will _not_ be treated like less because I am not your angelic, muscle-bound warrior, _father_." He snarled, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

Thor's blue eyes were wide.

Odin turned, his mouth set in a firm line. "And I will not take your disrespect any longer. Thor has done nothing wrong, and neither have I. This is ending _now_, Loki. Or there will be _serious_ repercussions."

Loki laughed, throwing his head back and giggling like Odin had just cracked the joke of the millenium. "_No_! You _haven't_! You haven't done a thing! And that's the point, Odin! What did I do to make you dislike me so? Is it because I'm not your little replica? Is it because I won't go out and fight in tights over a _ball_? Is it because I like to cook and read and write instead of play games and wrestle and get dirty?" There was a tight little fist in his chest that was grinding against his lungs painfully. He could barely breathe. _Red_ was flashing in his eyes.

"No! It's because **_you're not mine_**!" Odin yelled, then gasped. All the color drained out of his face. "I mean...No. What-what I mean is..." He stuttered, blinking hard and opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to say something but the words just wouldn't come out.

Really, it didn't matter what he said. Loki didn't hear a thing. The damage had been done and everything suddenly clicked into place. Of _course_. He didn't fit because this wasn't _his_ puzzle. Hell, this wasn't even his family. Thor wasn't _his_ brother, Frigga wasn't _his_ mother, and Odin wasn't _his_ father. All these years, he had been living a lie- or _trying_ to. All his broken, tearful nights, and this was the awful truth that had been lingering behind the alluring lies he had just been too desperate to validate.

"_Loki_..." Thor's voice was so soft, Loki thought he was imagining it. There were tears slipping down Thor's suddenly sorrowful face when he turned to look at him. And Loki _resented_ him all the more for it. _He_ should've been the one crying. Thor didn't get that right, he _had_ a family he _belonged_ to.

"Loki, you can go now, we- what's wrong? What happened?" Frigga stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, one holding his clothes. Her wise blue eyes flickered from son to son to husband and back around again. "Odin?"

"Thank you, Frigga. If you could give me my clothes, I need to get out of here." Loki spoke firmly and politely. But there was an unmistakable frozen taint to his words.

"Loki, please, let me go with you." Thor sounded like he was about to break in two.

"No. I don't want to even _see_ any of you." And there it was, the acid and the poison and the cyanide just dripping from his lips. There was something dark and ugly building up inside him, threatening to rot him to a cold, bitter _skeleton_. "I cannot believe you didn't tell me. I cannot believe you made me live this _lie_! You didn't even _want_ me did you? What Odin, was I just a stolen relic to parade in front of the media? Just something ugly to pretend to love so you would be lauded for your charity?" He spit, sounding like a wolf growling at it's cornered prey. "And I was treated like the little pauper I was, ignored in favor of your _own_ child." He laughed. "If it wasn't so convoluted and twisted, I might actually be able to wrap my brain around it. But alas, it seems I can't _stoop_ to your level, Odin. I _can't_ be what you _want_. In your eyes, I'm merely a _leech_, right? Do let me get out of your way." He was on his feet, yanking his clothes on, not caring that everyone sa2 his bare chest, thin and lithe and positively _puny_ compared to Thor's mighty girth.

"Loki, that wasn't the way it was!" Odin exclaimed, his face still red. But Loki was satisfied to see it was from _shame_.

"Of _course_ it was!" Loki thundered, losing his cool for good. It was _gone_.**_ G-O-N-E_**. "Why else would you ignore me and treat me so cruelly! I was your punching bag, Odin. I was nothing more than a strategic move in your petty campaign." He snarled, now in Odin's face. And suddenly, he wasn't scared of the man. Not in the _slightest_. It was probably just the adrenaline battering his body, or the _hatred_, but he used it to his advantage. "And don't think I will _ever_ forgive you for that, no matter what excuses you give. It all makes sense now. How you used to take _Thor_ camping, and take _Thor_ to the park, and play ball with _Thor_, and build treehouses with _Thor_. You _never_ did anything with me. You never _cared_ about me, Odin. And now I know why." He pulled back. "Because I was _nothing_. I was just a _nuisance_. Just in the way. Just a strategy."

Loki was getting sweaty, his body on fire with true rage like he had never felt. But his heart felt cold, so very, _very_ _cold_. Something inside him hurt, like a knife had been stuck inside him and twisted by a merciless hand. And maybe that was the hand of Truth. Because truth doesn't _care_ if you're happy or comfortable, it has no conscience, it has no sense of timing, it had no remorse for dropping an atom bomb on him when he definitely could _not_ handle it. At times like these, Loki _prayed_ for a lie to make him feel better.

"Please, Loki don't go." Frigga grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop him from rushing out the door. "Honey, let us explain." She begged, her voice soft like she was talking to a rabid dog. Loki realized, that was probably what he looked like right now. He was practically foaming at the mouth.

"No." He smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile, it was a _twisted_, _ugly_ thing. "You can't explain this one away." He shrugged out of her grasp and was gone.

But now that he had no family, now that he was an _orphan_...where did he go?

* * *

Tony woke up slowly, head still foggy and aching like the devil. He groaned, licking his dry lips and wishing for all the world that the nearest water was not a god damn _light-year_ away. His phone was ringing like a little demon, making it feel like someone was taking a _sledgehammer_ to his brain. _Ow_.

"Hullo?" He rasped, blinking away the stars that exploded in front of his eyes when he stood. Damn, he needed to stop drinking so much.

"Stark, it's Loki. Can you meet me..._somewhere_?" There was a desperate rawness to Loki's pretty voice that made Tony stop in his tracks. Fuck water.

"Loki, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He didn't really manage to veil his care for the boy, but it didn't sound like Loki was in the state to really give a fuck.

"I want to get drunk. Like, really, _really_ drunk. With _you_." Now that, that was a _bad_ idea if Tony had ever heard one.

How could he say no?

* * *

**Oh gosh. Well. I hope you enjoyed this. Review please! I live on reviews. They are my sustenance! **

** Really though, I gotta say I SO APPRECIATE all the reviews and the follows and favorites! I never thought anyone would like this. I'm so happy you guys enjoy it, and I hope it continues to please you. :) Any complaints or criticism is welcome! But I love all your kind words. ;)**

** XOXO**


	8. Chapter 8- Halfway Gone

** So. Much. Fluff. Do enjoy my relatively happy chapter. It's a rare thing to see. And obviously the result of a lack of sleep ;). **

** xoxox**

* * *

"I feel as though me and my life out to be wrapped up in caution tape and tied with a pretty bow. Like a warning to all who wish to get close to me." Loki drawled, sipping tequila and looking a little dazed.

And damn, he did know how that felt. It had been a constant thought on his mind during high school. There had been the joke amongst his friends that he was the corrupter of the group. Certainly, that wasn't a _lie_, but it was _hurtful_. Maybe, in some twisted way, Tony had done his best to live up to the teasing. Maybe he wanted to be that bad influence. Maybe, he wanted to be bad enough that no one would want to be close to him. He was self-destructing, he had been for years; and now, no one wanted to get close enough to get any on them when he detonated.

"Why?" He sipped his drink, eyes never really leaving Loki's slumped form beside him. He looked like hell. When the boy had walked in, Tony almost hadn't recognized him.

Clothes rumpled, hair windblown, red-ringed dull eyes, and a bandage clinging desperately to his burned arm. Tony had never seen Loki look like such a mess. _Hot_, but a mess nonetheless. The teenager looked like he had been dragged through hell by his toenails. The exhausted way he held himself and the expression of pain on his face was burnt into Tony's mind. He couldn't blink without seeing the boy he had been fascinated with for months, looking like he had just had his heart run over by a truck. Absently, he rubbed his chest, his lungs felt tight.

Loki scowled down at his drink. "Well, my family is turning me into a complete psycho. That's why I refused to move in with Thor! If I live with him...I'll lose my mind. What little is left of my sanity is draining away by the minute." He growled, a storm flashing dangerously in his eyes. "I can't _believe_ Odin even said that to me, but while I'm in the hospital...that's just too low. I thought he...had some sense of, I don't know, _humanity_ about him. It was like kicking me when I was already down." The skinny teenager hunched his shoulders, looking about ready to fold in on himself like a cheap suit. "What did I do to make him hate me, Stark? Am I so _awful_?" For the first time all night, Loki drove his green-eyed gaze straight into Tony. It felt like someone had stabbed him with a _harpoon_.

Anxiously, Tony shoved his hair off his face. "It's not your fault, hun. He's just a dick." He shrugged, wishing he was just the teensiest bit better at this stuff. "Like, my dad has a...somewhat illogical, but still valid, reason for hating me. Odin has no reason to hate you. You're..._perfect_. So you have fuckin' gorgeous black hair instead of blond. So you have emerald's for eyes instead of their blue. Blue is so ordinary! You can find blue eyes all over the place. But I've never seen eyes like yours." He stopped himself, he was rambling...and blushing. "Anyways, Odin isn't worth your pain. Trust me, I've met the dude." He rolled his eyes, thinking back to the party where his ear had been talked off by the white-haired man with an eye-patch. Ugh. Just thinking about it made him want to claw his eardrums out.

Loki gazed at him delicately. "You really think all of that?" His voice sounded odd. There was something..._off_. Tony just didn't know what it was yet.

He nodded. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't. You may not have noticed, but comforting people really isn't my forte." He smirked, throwing up the mask of indifference and playboy, I-couldn't-care-less attitude.

Green eyes dug into his, it felt like the boy had a straight line to his soul. And it _hurt_, to be seen so openly, to be so metaphorically naked in front of this kid he barely knew. But at the same time, it felt like something new. Like Tony was healing by helping this overly-wounded, beaten down, broken boy. They were a little bit of the same, right now. Both trying desperately to get their head above water all by themselves, but needing help. And maybe, in each other, they would find that helping hand. Someone who understood them almost better than they understood themselves. No one understood Tony, no one had even tried to in a very long time. Loki was different. He listened. And Tony would do the same for him.

"Hmm. You're surprisingly good at it." The remark caught Tony off-guard. "I've never been that good at sympathy either. I've felt it for very few people. You're one of those people. Sometimes, that's just the way it goes. It's how we're wired, you and me." He shrugged. "Most act as if that's deplorable, that we should all have a bleeding heart for the world. I digress. I think that's silly and...for most, impossible." The intelligence firing through his eyes added lightning to the storm raging in green irises. "Or maybe we were both just raised by cold-hearted assholes who didn't teach us anything but to be cold-hearted assholes." He sighed.

Tony blinked.

"I like the first opinion better." He grinned, tugging on a lock of silky black hair. "Besides, if I am going to be an icy bastard, it _wont_ be because of my dad. I'll never be anything like him. _Never_." The look Loki gave him proved that the boy felt the same way about his own 'father'.

"Have you spoken to Howard since the fire?" Loki allowed Tony to twirl his hair around his finger, the silken feeling making chills race up and down his backbone.

They were leaning closer to each other now, the alcohol making them less cautious, less afraid. Tony was losing himself deep in those green eyes and the movements of Loki's lips. He didn't care what this meant. He didn't care that Loki was a boy and it had been pounded into his head that he was straight from the moment he walked out of the womb. Loki was _gorgeous_.

"Mmm, no." He shook his head, frowning. "His, uh, right-hand man at the company called me. That's how I found out about the fire. Then Pepper, my dad's secretary called me to make sure I was okay. Apparently, my dad _did_ care and _was_ worried. But, Pepper tends to tell me stuff like that just to make me feel better." The conversation with Pepper hadn't really been enjoyable, but these days, they never were. She was just _too_ worried.

Loki patted his hand. "She cares. It's sweet." He shrugged. "She sounds like Thor, though. He's always swearing that Odin cares and that he'll come around or that I'm just being too hard on the man. It drives me crazy." He snarled, looking down at his drink again. A good portion of that drink found its way down his throat.

Tony sighed. "I think we both got the worst dads on the planet." He declared dramatically.

Beside him, Loki snickered. "Maybe not the _worst_. But pretty close." He turned on his stool to place his back against the bar and watch the young adults slightly older than them out on the dance floor. Tony studied his profile.

"You're really gorgeous." He murmured, not really caring whether Loki heard him or not. Judging by how fast his head whipped to look at Tony, he had heard. "I'm jus sayin'." He looked down, those eyes burning him _alive_.

A hand came up to turn his face back towards Loki's. "Do you really mean that?" The softness in Loki's voice was enough to make him want to turn into a big, mushy puddle. Damn, the things this kid did to him. He nodded, a little too dazed to say anything intelligent, like, y'know, '_yes_.' "You are a rare man, Stark. I never really know what to think of you." The proud, arrogant boy he had known for months on end, _gone_. Loki was letting his walls down.

Watching his red lips move as he spoke, Tony wanted very much to kiss Loki Odinson.

_Shit._

* * *

Loki was trying very hard not to kiss Stark. That was a bad, _bad_, _**bad** _idea. But, oh, it was such a tantalizing idea too. And he could see exactly what those brown eyes were focused on. Stark wanted the same thing. Probably. Or he was drunk off his ass and was just staring at whatever caught his attention.

_This_ is why Loki stopped drinking.

Fun Fact #5: Loki's a flirty drunk. Which used to get him laid quite a bit more than he liked to admit.

"You, uh, you wanna...uh, dance?" Stark was leaning closer. That wasn't intentional, surely. Maybe Loki should move back...so why didn't he?

"Sure." He smiled prettily. Stark licked his own lips, then pulled back and held out his hand. Loki took it.

The feeling of Stark's hands was a bit different than any other man he had ever held hands with. For one thing, Anthony slid his fingers between Loki's immediately. Loki doubted the man even considered that that wasn't generally the way it worked. Not in Loki's world. It was too intimate, for goodness's sake. For another, there were callouses and scars and a working roughness to his hands that was distinctly out of place in the rich upper class circles they were part of. Even Loki's hands were soft, smooth around the edges. The contrast was intriguing. It made him want to sit down and demand to know what each little scar was from, the story behind every callous. The reason his fingernails were dyed that _hideous_ tint of brown. Why he kept his nails cut so ridiculously short. He wanted to know it _all_.

On the dance floor, he and Stark got their limbs moving and their blood pumping quickly. He almost couldn't help giggling when Stark started goofing off, trying to get a laugh out of him with corny 90's dance moves. He even moonwalked, sending Loki into a fit of giggles before he was swept into strong arms and swung around wildly. _No one_ could make him feel this free. Not a soul in the world.

And would you look at that, Anthony Stark was just what he needed to make Odin fade into a long-lost memory. With Anthony, he wasn't an orphan, or adopted, or too different, or a freak, or that emo kid, or a self-harmer, or anorexic, or inadequate. He was just _Loki_. He just..._fit_. Everything clicked into place, every bad memory was erased, every tear-jerking moment was gone.

After a few songs, they dragged back to the bar, gulping down two drinks in quick succession. By now, Loki was practically dripping off Stark's shoulder, and a strong arm was hooked around his waist. The warmth coming off the engineer's feverishly hot body was almost as intoxicating as the vodka. The smell of motor oil and long nights and whiskey made his head spin. The brown eyes that dared to look directly into his, sent him reeling.

Something had _changed_.

Loki was okay with that.

* * *

They stumbled out of the bar giggling. Loki was holding onto Stark for dear life, because if he let go, he was fairly sure he would fall unceremoniously on his ass. The compact man beside him, however, was perfectly steady on his feet. Either he hadn't drank nearly as much as Loki, or Loki was embarrassingly incapable of holding his liquor like he used to. At least he didn't feel nauseated. _Yet_.

"I still can't believe you told that girl that her mother was a MILF." Stark was cackling rabidly beside him. "I mean, she was already ogling you, Lo-Lo." He stopped walking to take a calming breath.

Loki feigned indignation. "She was hot! Gods, this is what happens when I get drunk, Stark!" He broke his charade to smile at the giggling man beside him. Apparently, Stark had his moments when he was the exact opposite of a depressed drunk.

"That, and you fall asleep in bed with me!" Stark sang, teasing him and tickling his sides playfully.

Loki started howling, laughing freely for the first time in far too long. "_Stop_! P-please, Stark!" He bent, trying to wiggle out of Stark's wickedly tight embrace. But the man was far too interested in making him laugh and squeal to let up. And he didn't, until Loki's sides were hurting and he was panting like a dog.

They were face-to-face, now, Loki leaning against the pint-size genius and trying desperately to catch his breath. It seemed impossible with those lips so close, the smell of the man so strong and _intoxicating_. He could barely hold on to his frenetic thoughts enough to keep himself from kissing him right then, right there. Stark's eyes were somewhere around his mouth, brown eyes turning into molten gold, _desire_ screaming from them. He could feel the strong hands on his back, holding him upright.

Loki had never felt this way. It was like walking off a _cliff_. There was no controlling it, no shoving it into place, no organizing and orchestrating things like he usually did. This wasn't the same as all the relationships he had had before. The no-strings-attached, fuck-buddy boyfriends and girlfriends he had had in the past. Those were flings, relationships he had never cared about, bridges he had burned zealously, because he wanted no reminder of them. He didn't even remember the name of the girl he lost his virginity to. Or anything about her except that she was blonde. The perks of being drunk.

"Are you going to just _stare_ at me, or do something?" He teased, smiling when brown eyes shot to his, wide and surprised.

"H-how...You mean, you want me to..._kiss_ you?" Apparently, Stark was having a hard time remembering the English language. Loki smirked. Man, it felt good to be _wanted_.

Sure, he was vulnerable, drunk, hurting. But Loki didn't drown himself in sex and booze to get over things. Or, he _had_. But he wasn't _this_ time. This feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't going to go away in a few days. Or hours. It wasn't going to fade with his hangover. The attitude would come back, but he sincerely adored Anthony Stark. And wasn't that _scary_.

"Yes, Anthony. I do." And wow, could those brown eyes look any deeper into his soul? But he had a good idea of what Stark was searching for. "You're hesitating. Why?" There were many different reasons why Stark could be reluctant to give in, to kiss him.

**a**) He had never been with a man, that Loki knew for sure.

**b**) Loki was vulnerable.

**c**) Loki was drunk.

**d**) Despite the rumors, Stark was a _gentleman_.

**e**) Their homophobic fathers.

**f**) They were both extremely volatile, intelligent, and slightly dramatic. If they did date, the break-up would make Chernobyl look like an _amateur pipe bomb_.

Stark chose letters _b_, _c_, and _d_. "It's just, you're wasted and the whole thing with your...family...I don't want to take advantage of you." The pink that tinged his cheekbones made Loki _want_ to spend the night in his bed. He inwardly groaned. As wonderful and charming as chivalry was, it sure was a cockblock.

"Darling, trust me, I'm the last man you could take advantage of. Just ask Thor." He winked, getting his point across. Stark blanched. "But, he's out of my life now. I've always made my _own_ choices, Anthony. This being one of them. I won't wake up in the morning regretting anything. Will _you_?"

* * *

A/N: **It's shortish. Gah. Okay. A few little things to say.**

** Uno- I have started another story. A Joker/Batman thing. Please check it out if you're a fan ;). I'm in desperate need of some criticism on that story. It's driving me cuckoo. Anyways, if I don't update as often on here, I'm so,so,so sorry! xoxo**

** Dos- I'm so lost on this site. I have no idea how to respond to the lovely reviews I get! I adore you allllllll. An especial shoutout to Arianissa! Your reviews make my day. You have no idea.  
I really do love reviews. Thank you all so much for taking the time to say something about what I've written. As an aspiring author, it really makes my day to see that someone has enjoyed something I've written. So, hugs and kisses to you all -muah!-**

** Three- Yeah, I forgot how to spell 'three' in Spanish. Meh. Anywho, I don't really know a whole helluva lot about comics. If there's anyone you guys might want to see in this fanfiction, feel free to tell me about them, and I'll look into 'em. Specially bad guys. I have a soft spot for villains, and Odin and Howard can't be the antagonists forever. So, shoot me some suggestions for baddies ;).**

** Gracias, and see you next time, xoxox**


	9. Chapter 9- Love Only Knows

~_Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. __The way it stops and starts._~

Loki woke up as a disgusting, sweaty, headache-ridden clusterfuck of self-loathing and emotional backlog. Because, really, had his life ever been _this_ enormously fucked? Here's a quick rundown of the recent _fantastic_ facts of Loki's rollercoaster life:

a) He's a fucking orphan.

b) Last night he probably screwed up any possibility of having a relatively normal life.

c) He kissed his best and currently only true friend.

d) He _enjoyed_ kissing that friend far more than he would ever admit- even to himself.

e) _Everything_ hurt- especially his burnt arm.

f) It was Monday. It was noon. And he had missed half his classes.

g) He's a fucking _orphan_.

To be honest, it's not really _that_ bad. Things could be worse. Of course, in Loki's currently _fabulous_ state of mind, he seriously doubted it would be more than five minutes before things _did_ get worse. And wasn't that just fucking perfect.

The taste of cigarette smoke still lingered on his tongue, and the acidic wear-and-tear on his teeth reminded him of the copious amounts of vodka currently roiling around in his stomach, and the soft smell of something that was spicy, hard-working, and had caramel eyes that made him melt emanated from his t-shirt. A smile toyed with his lips, lips that had been crushed to a certain engineer's lips not too long ago. That kind of made everything suck a little less hard.

Oh dear god, is he a special kind of screwed.

Loki's fairly sure he's going to scream before the day is over. I mean, really, he's never felt this utterly hopeless and helpless. He has _nothing_. No family, no home, no friends, no sanity left to be destroyed. He was a little ball of misery, insanity, and despair. Because everything good in his life was destroyed. Everything he clung to dissipated. Everything he reached for stayed just out of reach. The people he loved hurt him, and the things he loved left. Loki was abandoned, betrayed, and wounded possibly beyond repair. Do such things as happiness and joy and peace _exist_?

Groaning at the vortex of banal teenage angst whirling in his head, he pulled the covers over his face and huffed a huge sigh. Where was he? Considering the fact that absolutely everything- even he himself- smelled like Anthony's strange amalgamation of expensive cologne and all things scientific and geniusy, Loki guessed he was at the engineer's apartment. And that smell brought back all of last night's completely stupid, absolutely perfect, fantastically euphoric events succeeding his utter breakdown in his car. Yeah. That hadn't been even slightly pitiful. -snort-

_"I won't wake up in the morning regretting anything. Will _you_?" The look on Stark's face was priceless. He looked ready to swoon. Really, stop being cute. It's _not_ okay, Anthony. Loki has to keep his head to stay all suave and smooth and superior._

_ The genius licked his lips, making Loki's heart skip a very fluttery beat. His heart had turned into a hummingbird and was beating at about three thousand miles an hour, and if Loki survived this, he was fairly positive he'd never feel this on fire and this alive ever again. Why is it that pain makes the fleeting moments of happiness all that much more razor sharp and in focus and overwhelming? Was it just the Universe apologizing for the seventh circle of hell that Loki currently resided in? Or was life just cruel and taunting that way? Loki neither knew nor cared, because right now there were ridiculously red lips pressing against his._

_ Everything got warm and comfy and sweet and perfect. Loki couldn't think because his mind was spinning so fast he was dizzy. Or maybe he was dizzy because this kind of euphoria was a fickle 'fuck you' to vertigo and a regular pulse. And gods, he felt secure and safe and untouchable in this man's arms, like the world couldn't get to him, like he was shielded from all the bad memories and painful reminders and the past few hours of breaking down and crying and agonizing over everything he suddenly felt as it flooded into his veins like a fatal poison. His life was arsenic, and Anthony Stark was the only cure. There _was_ an antidote. A teenager with narcissism, ADHD, and addictions he didn't even begin to realize the extent of. A boy with daddy problems, suicidal tendencies, and more recklessness than Loki had ever experienced. _

_ A soft warm tongue that promised the intoxicating taste of cigarettes and whiskey licked the curve of his lips gently. Loki's mouth opened without his permission, and that taste of everything that made up his new friend/ confidante/ and permanent irritant, slid into his mouth and shoved his mind into pure white noise. _

_ In that moonlit alley behind the bar, where nothing existed but them and the twinkling, blinking, smiling stars above them, Loki kissed the one person on earth who could truly understand him. In a world where they were the only things that mattered, Loki could stop thinking about the fact that he was suddenly an orphan, that everything in his life was a lie, that he was breaking inside and shattering into tiny little miserable pieces of agony and heartbreak. And he loved Stark, for being his shield and his comfort and his little teddy bear, cried on and held close to his heart because nothing else could soothe that pain that resided in his chest. Even if it was superficial and shallow now, Loki loved him. Loved him with all his heart could muster._

_ Stark pulled back and started trailing kisses along his jawline. Loki closed his eyes tightly, wanting nothing but to ingrain this moment into his brain forever, to pull it out of his memory when everything went to hell again and again- because, with Loki's luck, it surely will continue to go to Hades. Maybe this was all he would have of happiness, of real, true happiness that he had always envied in his brother. Maybe for tonight, and tonight only, Anthony Stark would be his sunshine. Even in the midst of a furious hurricane, there is a calm, there is a moment of sunlight, there is a moment when the skies clear. Before the storm comes crushing down upon the serenity again, shattering it until it's over, until the havoc has been wreaked and chaos and destruction have had their way. This was the eye of the storm. It was not a delusion, it was not him doing as he had done before and throwing himself into sex and lust to escape his life, this was someone loving him and caring about him and wanting him. Not just his body- although knowing Anthony, that was surely a big part of it- but _him_. Who he was. How he thought. His silvertongue and sharp, cutting wit. He was as much of a handful as the strong, cold, screwed-up teenager holding him close. He was a bitchy, misanthropic, wolfish young man with a flair for the dramatic and a razor sharp tongue and extreme issues with trust. Anthony was an addicted, out-of-control, absentminded genius with a diva-narcissist-self-destructing screw loose. And somehow, Fate had pulled them together, like two flies on her spider's web called Life. Maybe she would devour them heartlessly, or maybe she would let them be, happy as two in such a position can be. _

_ "Come on." Stark pulled away, threading their fingers together in his unique way. "Let's go _home_." The smile on the brunet's face really made Loki just want to burst into tears with how soft and sweet and warm it was and all the comfort and concern and care and love it conveyed. Did Stark realize the immense impact he had on his ridiculously imbalanced state of mind right now?_

_ He trailed behind the teen in his car, letting himself be led back to Stark's apartment. It was the first time he had ever gone home with another man (other than the last time Anthony dragged him home whilest they were both drunk off their asses). Then again, there were a lot of firsts with Stark. He was the first person to make Loki feel safe, to make him feel like it was okay to let his walls down just a bit, like maybe in _time_ he could _trust_ the boy. He was the first to kiss Loki slowly, tenderly, like it wasn't just a prelude to sex and biting and ripping off clothes and pulling hair and sneaking out early in the morning. He was the first to push past Loki's mask of indifference and irritability and misanthropy to weasel into his heart and force Loki out of his comfort zone of hatred. And god, that was refreshing and freeing and all these amazing feelings Loki wasn't sure he actually had the _ability_ to process. _

_ And then there was the way Stark _looked_ at him. Like he was the most beautiful, special, perfect human being those brown eyes had ever seen. It made Loki feel like he actually meant something to someone and it was so amazing it _hurt_. It hurt to feel this accepted and wanted and desired. It was something he had never felt before. No one had ever looked at him like they saw right through his masquerade, like every sophist lie and carefully wrought mask was as translucent as glass. Somehow, that touched his soul in a way he had been positive no one could ever touch him._

_ All of this was an overload for his massively underused heart. For so long- uh, _nineteen _years (also know as **forever**)- he had cut himself off to this feeling, this emotion, this overwhelming sensation of giving a shit about someone. He had never even cared about himself. As narcissistic and selfish as Loki was, he hated _himself_ more than anyone, even Odin. For almost two decades, he had been loathing himself for not fitting in, for not coloring between the lines, for being so damnably _different_. And Odin had fueled that all-consuming fire, Thor had fed the flames as well- not on purpose, of course-, and all of his backstabbing friends and Benedict Arnold peers had made it grow and the flames consume more of his soul and eat away his insides. Now that someone was healing those burns and those wounds, it hurt. _The healing always hurt_. Even a balm to soothe the soul burns before it comforts. _

_ This was all spinning around in his brain and mixing with endorphin's and repressed pain and the misery of knowing your life as you know it was always just a _lie_, whisking together to make a batter of sensory overload. Then they were stopping, and Stark was at his door, pulling him into a tight hug before Loki even realized he was sobbing. Everything he had gone through in the past 72 hours was too much. Everything hurt, everything burned him, everything wounded him deeper and _deeper_. When would it become too much? When would Loki snap, once and for all?_

Now, Loki buried his nose in the pillow under his head and breathed in Stark's intoxicating mix of smells, relishing the somewhat icky warmth that cocooned his body and seemed to thrum across his skin. He could feel his heartbeat, that hyper-awareness that comes with being hungover making itself beyond recognized. There was a desperate need for a shower and coffee and clean clothes and shampoo and glorious, glorious _soap_ that presented itself. Loki ignored it for the gross warmth of his little curled up half-asleep position and the fact that not moving was much better than getting up which guaranteed him upchucking everything he had ever eaten as well as all his guts- which he much preferred inside his body.

"Goodmorning, sunshine." A door opened and a cheerful voice, blessedly low and husky with sleep, assaulted his poor ears. Somehow, it didn't hurt like it should have. Maybe because now he liked that voice and appreciated it's depth and richness and warmth and dear god, he's turned into a mushy sap overnight. Is this what emotional devastation and boys made of teddy bear fluff do to a nineteen year old teenager?

"I'm not sure it's either good or morning." Loki murmured, burying his face in the pillow and forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds. Then claustrophobia- something about _smothering_ yourself tends to bring that up- kicked in and he looked up and breathed in cool, fresh air again. Stark was smiling down at him with twinkling brown eyes that melted Loki's hard, icy core. "Okay, maybe it's not _so_ bad." He grinned playfully.

"That's the spirit!" Anthony knelt down by his bed and placed his chin on his arms right in front of Loki's face. "You need food, like carbs or something, and water and coffee and probably Tylenol." He commanded.

"Ugh. You are _determined_ to make me fat and addicted to painkillers, aren't you?" He moaned throwing his arms over his face with a dramatic sigh.

Long fingers ran down his ribs firmly. "Oh yeah, you're so gonna be _so_ overweight, Loki." He could _hear_ Stark's eyes roll. "Come on, up and at 'em, princess." Two hands fastened around his wrists and helped him gingerly get to his feet.

"_Ow_." He groaned, burying his face in Anthony's shoulder. "Shoot me. _Please_." He could feel the other boy laughing at his misery.

"Contrary to popular belief, all dashing, charming, ridiculously sexy millionaire bachelors are not serial killers." Anthony teased playfully. "Seriously, let's try food, caffeine, and Tylenol before execution, 'kay?" He kissed the side of Loki's head.

"Okay. Then I have to go shopping, because these clothes are disgusting and the rest of my wardrobe was either burnt with the rest of my belongings, or...is still at the Odinson's." He looked down at his ragged nails, bit to hell by his own jagged, nervous teeth. Fabulous. His perfect manicure, ruined.

Tan hands twined with his own. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here. Alright?" Loki looked up into warm brown eyes that promised of a light at the end of this tunnel, even if he couldn't see it now. Gods. Curse you, Anthony.

He nodded and allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen.

* * *

Tony stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling while Loki showered. He still couldn't believe he had kissed the boy. And he hadn't gotten slapped for it. In fact, Loki had actually _liked_ it. Will wonders never cease? Of course, there was still the niggling _doubt_ in the back of his mind that said Loki was just vulnerable and scared and upset and would have kissed any boy who dared to comfort him and hold him and love him. And maybe they were both that way, because really, who had _ever_ dared to comfort them and hold them and love them but each other?

But there was the fact that, yeah, Loki had been through an insane amount of personal tragedy in the past few days and he had come to Tony. _Tony_. Loki had come to him. He couldn't get over it. Sure, it didn't mean they were in love, or trusted each other, or hell, it didn't even mean they _liked_ each other- or that Loki liked Tony because Tony is finally willing to admit that _yeah_, he likes Loki a whole fucking _lot_-, but it meant it was the _beginning_ of something. Something that could end up being..._amazing_. Fuck, that was _scary_. But Tony wasn't running away. Not this time. Because Loki Odinson was fucking _special_, he could see it in those radioactive green eyes that threatened to burn his flesh and char his bones. He had never felt that way before.

The air conditioner clicked on. Cool air started filling the apartment. Everything was silent except for the sound of the A/C and the running shower. It was like serenity embraced the apartment for the first time in ever. When had Tony ever experienced peace or quiet or calmness? When was his life not a maelstrom of anger and addiction and Howard and media problems and the consequences of his own fuck-ups? When did he lay down without being drunk as a skunk or getting laid? When did he ever just lay still and let his mind think happy thoughts? When did Tony _have_ happy thoughts, _ever_, for that matter. It all hit him like a brick wall.

Tony was happy.

Sort of.

Momentarily.

Knock on wood.

No, literally, someone was knocking on the door and Tony had to get up- groaning and grumbling irritably (whoops there goes happiness)- and answer the fucking door. Cue one goatee-adorned jaw drop.

"Stane?" He frowned, what was his dad's right-hand man doing at his apartment? Sans Howard, thank fuck. "Uh. Whatcha doin' here?" He tugged a wayward curl- like they weren't _all_ wayward (-snort-)- nervously.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could have a little talk." Obadiah sounded a little too calm and placating for Tony's taste. "Your dad didn't think coming would be wise because of your...current estrangement." He smiled neutrally.

Obie was not one to interfere with Tony and Howard's shit relationship. This had never happened before and really Tony wasn't okay with it happening now. What went on between him and Howard was strictly between him and Howard. As much as he hated the man, he didn't really want all the words passed between them to be aired out in front of the media. Especially Howard's recent insinuations about Tony causing Maria's death. A sharp pang hit his chest like a dagger to the heart.

"Uh. Okay. Fine." He stepped back to allow the man inside. Then followed, and flopped on the couch insolently. As much as he respected Obie, he wasn't going to even _pretend_ to be pleased that the man was here, in his apartment, invading his personal space and short-lived happiness. Plus, Loki was here, and he was pretty sure the boy would not want Odin finding out he was fraternizing with Tony. Especially if Odin knew anything about Loki's iffy sexual orientation. "_So_, what's up?" He looked up at Obie, all business man in his Italian suit and pricey gold watch and bald head and meticulously trimmed beard. And, really, he was fairly sure he already knew what the older man wanted.

"Well, I'm working on a new weaponry project and I could really use your expertise. There are a few things I'd love to pick your brain about. And...well, your dad mentioned you were looking for work. This will pay _handsomely_." Tony barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Everything was about money, _money_, _**money**_. Tony was tired of money, he was sick of it. Every time it was mentioned, he wanted to barf. Although, okay, he really _did_ need a job because if he didn't get one soon, the _money_ would run out and his rent would be due. And getting kicked out on his ass was not the type of rebellion he went for. Ascetics weren't really his style.

Tony looked up at the ceiling. "Nah. I'm good. I really don't want to be in the armory business. I'm pretty sure Howard has supplied the world with enough weapons of mass destruction for the both of us." He muttered. 'Merchant of Death' was not an idle title. His dad lived up to it with every fiber of his being. Tony refused to follow suit. Even if they were rare and scant, Tony did have a few morals- including, thou shalt not kill the world with atom bombs and big ass missiles.

Sure, Tony could pretty much build _anything_. And explosives were child's play. He'd been building rockets and mini bombs when he was like _six_. So, it wasn't even slightly surprising Obadiah wanted his input on whatever this 'project' was. Nevertheless, ever since Maria had explained to Tony exactly what it was 'Daddy' did for a living, he'd had a strong antipathy towards it. Maybe it was the idea of having international blood all over his hands- even if he wasn't the man to drop the damned thing on another nation, he had made its existence possible- or maybe he was just a pacifist, but he couldn't bring himself to be willing to follow in his father's ensanguined footsteps. He couldn't even enter the Stark Industries building without a shiver shaking his spine.

The towering man frowned down at him. "Come on, Tony. You know how it is. The player with the bigger stick _always_ wins by default. Don't you want to keep America from being jugular-deep in war? And hell, if she _does_ go to war, don't you want to be the nation with the most firepower?" Obadiah had crossed his arms over his chest and was looking down at Tony with a sense of false patriotism. Tony knew for a fact that Stane would sell to the highest bidder, American or _not_.

He laughed. "I actually don't _care_. Appealing to my sense of patriotism isn't gonna get you anywhere, Stane. I said no. And I _meant_ it." If Tony hated anything, it was having to repeat himself. When he said no, he meant it, no takesies-backsies. And, letting his voice gain a bit of completely unnecessary venom, "I'd think you'd know _better_ than to _question_ Howard Stark's son." And okay, considering how much he really hates his father, he sure points out their biological relation a whole fucking lot. There _is_ a valid reason for this.

Howard Stark is known as being a subzero, Arctic, frozen son of a bitch that won't take no for an answer and will _not_ tolerate being questioned. He is the smartest, quickest, most sly bastard in the business. He's made his millions quickly and impressively; building an _empire_ and making a name for himself that is recognized all over the world. His charm is unparalleled, but everyone knows instinctively that getting on his bad side in _not_ a place they want to be. He plays the media like a master puppeteer. He could _ruin_ anyone with a few words in the right ears.

If Tony so desired, he could be all that and more.

In fact, he could be all that and _worse_.

Being the son of an Arms dealer, millionaire mogul, and full-time charming _asshole_ had it's rare perks. Tony considered his bone-chilling tone and passive-aggressive expression to be a few of those perks. Apparently, it worked on Stane, because the man blanched a smidgen. "Look, Tony, I'm just looking for a little help. No need to get upset." Tony heard the shower turn off. Time for Stane to go bye-bye.

"Yeah, well, you looked and you didn't find. Not here. I'm not getting into the weapon-making business. That's my _final_ word. Now, it was nice to see you, give Pep my regards and tell her I'll see her around." In other words, _get the fuck out_. Maybe it was Howard who had taught him to dismiss people. But Tony really doubted it. There were some skills he had learned all by himself. And hell, Life is a fucking kick-ass teacher, too.

Getting to his feet finally seemed to get the message through that shiny bald skull. Grimacing, Stane headed towards the door. But Tony saw something in the man's grey eyes he didn't really like. Something a little violent and threatening. Something he couldn't _trust_, that diminished his respect for the man a little more. Hiding beneath all that meekness, there was a bit of an antagonist in Stane. A chill spread across Tony like an eerie breeze in a wintry cemetery.

"Let me know if you change your mind, Anthony." Hearing his full name come off a tongue other than Loki's made him go rigid. "I can always use a high-powered brain like yours." The bearded smile wasn't half as charming as it was supposed to be.

"Yeah. Bye, Obadiah." He closed the door, locking it and leaning back against it wearily.

Well, that was fucking _weird_.

* * *

Skipping classes had been fun- although also unintentional. Loki was free and smiley and _close_. And Tony fucking loved every second of it, soaking up the attention like a god damn _sponge_. Because really, he knew Loki could be back to his usual acrimonious, frigid self in the morning. And yeah, he still hadn't gotten him to agree to stay at his house until he happened to work something else out- which okay, his _devious_ plan was that Loki wouldn't want to move after a week or so, but hey- despite threats of tickling and other various forms of good-natured torture.

"Oh come _on_, Stark. You and I both know we'd rip each other's throats out within the week!" Loki protested, swiping some of the whipped cream off Tony's coffee with a pale, long finger. Tony gulped, watching him lick it off his digit with a pink tongue. _Damn_.

Recovering before Loki could notice his severe blush, Tony sighed dramatically. "I know no such thing! I do know I won't be able to sleep knowing you're out here stubbornly sleeping in your car or on some cardboard in a dark, dangerous alley or something." He teased. "And seriously, you gotta admit, my apartment is big enough for both of us. And it's comfortable. And warm. And there's an actual _bed_." He grinned, sipping his latte with a predator's look in his eyes zeroed in on one pretty raven-haired teenager that was regarding him with narrowed green eyes that, _yeah_, took his breath away just a _little_. If 'little' meant completely and totally and oh my god, was there actually such a thing as oxygen?

Then his phone rang. _**Thor**_. Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Stupid fucking Thor.

"_Thor_? Why is my brother calling _you_?" The confusion on Loki's face mirrored his own. Then, Tony realized, he had been the one to practically turn knight-in-shining-armor and show up at the boy's hospital room a day or two ago. And really, had the fire only been _three_ days ago? It felt like a fucking lifetime. "Well, answer him." The misery screaming in Loki's eyes starkly contrasted the indifference expressed on his face.

"Uh, hello?" He answered reluctantly, knowing his walking a very _thin_ line here, like, fucking anorexic. God damn Thor for putting him in this position.

"_Tony_! Have you seen my brother? Loki kind of...disappeared the other day. We're all very worried about him." The grief in the older boy's voice hit Tony hard. He grimaced.

"Uh..." He looked at Loki, who was staring off in space with a steely set to his lips. "Uh, no. No, I haven't seen him, Thor. Sorry." As far as Tony was concerned, Loki needed to take his time to deal with this and contact his 'family' whenever he felt he was ready to face them. Of course, avoiding a problem is never healthy, but Loki was kind of dealing with a lot, right now. Surely a little unhealthy avoidance wouldn't hurt. Anyways, any confrontation he had now would probably end up in emotional scarring out the ass and Tony _refused_ to be responsible for Loki's pain. Tony was all _cure_, not cause.

"I'm scared, Tony. There's no one else he would go to. Steve hasn't seen him, and his professors say he didn't show up for class. What am I going to _do_?" The desperation in Thor's thunderous, emotional voice tugged _hard_ on Tony's heart-strings, but what could he do?

Then his phone was plucked out of his hand and Loki's white fingers were wrapped around it so tightly, Tony was pretty sure the boy was going to _crush_ it. "Thor, I _don't_ want to see you. I _don't_ want to see Frigga. And I sure as hell don't want to see Odin. When and _if_ I ever do again, I will let you know. Until then, _stop_ calling. Leave me _alone_! I deserve at least a modicum of respect from you, in the very least." His voice was hard as diamond, cold as ice.

Tony never wanted to hear that steely tone directed at him.

* * *

Loki felt everything inside him go below freezing. He was turning into ice. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if he had turned blue by now. A shiver gripped his spine and suddenly he was trembling like an earthquake. The warm wetness on his face translated to tears, and the pained look on Anthony's face told him there was no hiding this behind an excuse and a quickly fixed expression. No, the boy understood far too well for that.

And when Stark came to sit beside him at the picnic table and wrapped his long, strong arms around him, Loki didn't mind pushing his face into the warm shoulder and inhale the delicious faint smoke of the cigarette Stark had been smoking. It felt good, it felt soothing, it felt like his pain was blowing away just a bit. The tears were soaking into the engineer's black AC/DC t-shirt, and his pitiful sniffling was muffled by warm flesh and there was _someone_ **_here_**. Someone was just sitting here, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nonsense and brushing his hair with rhythmic fingertips. Was this what he had been missing? Was this what he had been looking for for so long?

Nevertheless, it wasn't like last night. He couldn't just push away the overflowing emotions or the rib-cracking sobs or the throat-closing anxiety that wrapped itself around him and sucked away his considerable self-control like a leech. It felt like he was _breaking_ in two. The betrayal and the sound of his brother- _no_- of _Thor's_ desperate voice put him right back where he had been when he was staring in shock at Odin and realizing, oh yeah, he _wasn't_ part of this family. He got strange looks because he _didn't_ **_belong_**. _He_ was the problem.

He was just a lie.

He was nothing.

He didn't belong.

He didn't fit.

He wasn't right.

He wasn't worthy.

He hurt.

He ached.

He wanted to _die_.

* * *

A/N:** So, this chapter kicked my ass. I'm really not certain if it's in any way good or terrible or what. I AM SO SORRY. I've rewritten this like three billion times, I shit you not. I admit, the whole kiss thing scared the shiiiiiit outta me. But, FrostIron. Fucking FINALLY. **

** I LOVE YOU ALL. I swear, I have the best followers/viewers on all of FFN. Seriously. -BEAR HUGS TO ALL-**

** And yeah, I leave you on a terribly angsty note. I'm so sorry. **

** And yes, there is a point to Obadiah's weird little visit. But, shh. It's a secret. **

** And, I apologize, I use 'and' wayyyyy too much. **

** Review, maybe? Please? **

** P.S. All the reviews I've been getting warm my heart. And make me smile. So much. xoxox**


	10. 10 Welcome To My Life

**Yeah, I know, I've already published this once earlier today. But the lovely DecadentGrrrl pointed out to me that this is TRIGGERING. Duh. Dumb, dumb moment on my part. Please, DO NOT READ this if you have had any past in self-harm. Or if you're thinking about self-harm. And if you are, PLEASE DO NOT DO IT. Honestly, private message me. I will listen to absolutely anything. If you need to vent, cry, bitch, moan, please. I am here. Having dealt with this myself, I don't want anyone else to struggle alone. So, I'm here. This is a warning. And in future chapters, there may be more of this type of subject. Don't continue. I'm here for anyone who needs a listening ear. **

** xoxox**

**Okydoky, kids. The name of this chapter, Welcome To My Life, is by Simple Plan. Totally go check it out, because it makes a special appearance in this chapter. I used some of the lyrics for Tony, simply because I was listening to it and felt like it perfectly explained these two boys we so adore. **

* * *

Loki was sitting outside on the balcony when Tony finally got home. He hadn't wanted to leave his new 'roommate' here all by himself, but with rent baring down on him like a fucking steamroller, he hadn't much choice. He _really_ needed a fucking job. But, his feet hurt, and his back was tired and really, all this 'job hunting' bullshit, was _not_ fun. Why the fuck did his dad have to be such a bastard? _Ooooh_, right, because he believed Tony had killed his beautiful wife. Not that he'd ever admit it, but Tony probably wouldn't have been much better than Howard, had he been in his position.

"Hey." He flopped into a chair and set his cool beer on the railing. The sun was shining brightly. It warmed his skin and sunk into his bones, making him feel like a limp noodle. Ugh. _Relaxation_. No wonder everyone liked it so much.

"Any luck?" The porcelain skinned boy next to him didn't really appear interested. He looked preoccupied, as he had for the past week and a half since they had gotten drunk, kissed, and essentially, he had collapsed in Tony's arms in grief, confusion, and desperation.

Tony frowned and shook his head, studying the clouds as if they held all the answers to the questions that were whirring around in his mind.

1) What _exactly_ were he and Loki? Acquaintances? Friends? Best friends? More?

2) Was Loki blowing hot and cold at him because that kiss had been a moment of weakness and vulnerability? Was their lack of closeness now simply because of what he was dealing with in his head?

3) How could he go on like this? Without money? Without support? When all the sleep he was getting were cat naps between classes?

4) Did Loki _need_ him?

5) Did, against all odds, _he_ need Loki? Was the impregnable Tony Stark...hoping? wanting? needing? comfort from another human being? -gasp-

Tony couldn't really process anything. His medicine had run out a few days ago and his mind was currently running free. It was driving him up a wall, he couldn't focus on anything and even the simplest thing was making him flip his shit. Seeing Loki stare at him in complete and utter shock when he had woken up to the kitchen being demolished- half of it already blown to smithereens thanks to a experiment gone wrong (the very thing which had sparked his tantrum, actually)- by a very exhausted, frustrated, insane Tony hadn't been a moment he wanted to experience. _Although_, it had been kind of cute to see Loki so sleepy with his hair all messy. In his _pajamas_. Yeah. That was pretty fucking _adorable_ actually.

"Anthony," Loki sat up and shifted in his chair to look Tony full-on. Uh-oh. "The college called. They're going to be reassigning rooms to the students whose dorms were burned down. It's just taking them a little while to figure out what to do with everyone. But I should be out of your hair in a few days, at the very most." The prim way Loki spoke took Tony a minute to fully process. His mind was wheeling. Loki was so _pretty_. "Anthony? Anyone in there?" He waved a long, white, slender hand in front of Tony's face.

"Uh, right. Yeah. Okay. Um." He blinked. "You know you can stay here, right? I mean, they'll probably be housing three to a dorm room." He shrugged, trying his ADHD-best to appear completely nonchalant. Damn. He _missed_ Adderall.

Loki sighed. "I realize staying here _would_ be more comfortable, and most likely a more positive experience for _me_." He glanced at Tony. He could feel the green eyes cutting through him like a hot knife. "But what about you? I know getting a job is stressful on you, even more so because I'm staying here. I don't want to be a burden on you, even though I would try to get a job should I stay. And there's also that kiss..." He trailed off, looking out at the city beneath them.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "I understand if it was just a one-time thing, Loki. It's okay. I'm not expecting anything." Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't _hoping_ for something...

6) _Was_ he gay? Or, bisexual, because, let's face it, he still liked boobs...a lot. But he liked Loki a lot, too. Like. _A_. _Lot_.

Loki smirked. "You're too quick to reassure. I know that kiss meant _something_ to you." Tony could feel his cheeks get hot. "It did to me too."

Tony looked up at Loki. He looked so calm and cool. There was a sense of reticence around Loki, even when he was seething or crying or just throwing a motherfucking _tantrum_. It seemed like he was always in control of himself. Tony wanted nothing more than to take that control and rip it apart at the seams, to see Loki let loose and _free_. There had been one or two occasions when he had seen the raven-haired teenager lose his cool, or laugh freely, or dance like there wasn't a soul on earth watching- although, honestly, Tony, for one, _couldn't_ keep his eyes off him. Loki was uptight, straight as a razor blade's edge. And Tony knew exactly why, because for a time, he had been the _same_ fucking way.

After Maria died, and his dad pretended like he didn't exist, Tony had started breaking rules and being 'naughty'. He'd become salacious, insolent, rebellious, arrogant, cocky, licentious, and a bit unhinged. He had broken every rule his father had ever given him- including, but not limited to, having casual sex, gambling, drinking (_excessively_) and doing all manner of drugs. He let go, broke down, started to destroy himself from the inside out. All very publicly and with the help of many '_friends_' and women of various _professions_. However, before this moral demolition, Tony had been straight-edge. He had gone to school, stayed away from drugs and alcohol. Hell, he had hardly drank _coffee_. Before his mother died, he'd been a _virgin_, believe it or not.

But, unlike Loki, Tony _destroyed_ the person he was. He became something _new_- even if this story is the same old song and dance. Something hardened and laughing in the face of everything good and pure. Now, he _missed_ his innocence. It's bliss.

"Then why leave?" He took a long drag from his beer. _Maybe_ if he drowned himself in enough alcohol, this would be easier.

"Because, darling, I think we both know how that would end." He waited for Tony to meet his eyes. "_Badly_. For _both_ of us." He smiled softly. "You need to take this slowly. I know you've never...done _this_. You've never been with a man before. Have you?" The look in his eyes was enough to show that he well knew he was right, and that that question was just for Tony's sake. To make him face it.

Obediently, Tony shook his head.

"Then me being here, right here, always in reach, always in touch. It's too much right now. Being so...unwittingly serious so soon would be a mistake. Everyone needs personal space, _especially_ you and I." Loki patted his hand reassuringly.

Tony nodded. He was right. "You're different, Loki. I don't know how, I don't know why. You're just _different_. It's fucking _scary_. But I really do...like you." He flinched at his own wording. "As childish as that sounds. But it's like you're the first person who's ever understood, y'know? You get it. Youknow_ what it's like to be me. To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark, and kicked when you're down. You know what it's like to be pushed around, to be on the edge of breaking down. And no one's there to save you. (1)_ You get that. No one else does." He carded his hand through his fucking barbaric curls. "I don't want to lose you. Not just because...you're someone I can relate to. But because I trust you. It's so _stupid_, but I do. And I've never trusted anyone, Loki."

Loki threaded their fingers together. "I know, darling. You won't lose me. I just won't be living here." He toyed with Tony's fingers thoughtfully. "If anyone knows what it's like to lose someone you trust, it's me. I wouldn't do that to you."

Tony nodded, watching the skinnier, taller, more put-together teenager like he was his muse. "The problem is, Lo-Lo, if you leave, I'm just gonna be lost. Hurt. And I think we both know what happens when I'm like that. I'm not one for self-preservation or anything, but everything in me is screaming at me to be careful." Whoa, why was he being so honest? He really needed some Adderall...

Loki laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. It was tragic, and betrayed Loki's hurt and pain and everything he was going through internally. Tony wanted to _fix_ it. To fix everything. To fix _Loki_. "You want a guarantee? I can't give you one. I've been just as let down as you have in the past. Obviously, relationships of any kind are not my forte. But I'll _try_. I give you my word on that, I will try my hardest to make this work." Tony was honestly beginning to think his heart was on the verge of _exploding_. Literally. It was beating so hard against his ribcage, he thought it was gonna break some bones or something. "This isn't the easiest thing for me, either, darling. Trusting isn't something I've made a particular practice of." Tony could see the events of two weeks ago flashing through his friend's eyes. Of course, trust was a tentative thing for Loki _right now_, understandably.

Tony very much wanted to _strangle_ Odin. This would be ten times easier for both of them if it weren't for their fathers.

"You can trust me, Loki. The _last_ thing I want to do is hurt you." He murmured, his eyes down and his face red, because god damn it, he _didn't_ say stuff like this.

Loki grinned. "You're blushing." He chucked Tony's chin with a long, skeletal finger, making the older boy grin brightly. "I think you've proven quite efficiently that there _is_ a heart in that chest of yours. Never mind the rumors swearing otherwise." He stood, letting go of Tony's hand and leaning against the railing.

Tony smiled up at him, happy that, for once, someone seemed to understand that he wasn't the cold, salacious bastard the media made him out to be. He _could_ care about people, it just wasn't often that he found anyone worth more than his disdain and unworthy of concern or compassion. There were few people who wanted anything more from Tony than a quick trip to fame and fifteen minutes worth of media time. And of course there was the river of booze and drugs and women at his dispense. Motives for Tony's affection were hardly ever pure.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, eyeing Loki through the flame. "How are you? You know, with everything?" He asked the standing, long-legged teen.

Loki snorted. "Thor calls about every five minutes. Frigga calls at least once a day." He shrugged. "They won't give me any space." His shoulders dropped and he sagged against the railing, looking exhausted and worn. "I just need _time_ to think. God forbid Thor even _consider_ thinking about _anything_. He thinks I should be over it by now. Maybe he's right. But...it's a blow to everything I've been safe in and depended on for most of my life. My family, no matter how out-of-place I felt in it, was _everything_ to me." He shook his head, his eyes averted from Tony's and focused on something off in the distance.

Tony frowned. "I can talk to him, tell him to stop calling you so much. It's not for him to decide when and _if_ you get over this. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't. But then again, I'd probably have punched Odin out instead of calmly walking away." He felt his spirits lift when Loki gave him a lop-sided grin. At least he could cheer the boy up a little.

"That _certainly_ crossed my mind." Tony noticed his fingers lightly tracing the scarred skin on his arm. It had finally healed, for the most part, from the burns a few weeks ago. It matched the scars on Tony's hands, spreading across flesh in lacey patterns and marring otherwise young, clean skin.

"We match." Loki nodded towards Tony's hands, obviously noticing Tony gazing at his arm. "I noticed the other day when you held my hand." A soft smile spread across his satin lips.

Tony could still remember the feel of those lips on his. And he couldn't _wait_ to feel it again.

* * *

Loki shifted his backpack tiredly. He _really_ needed to get to the library. But, as with most things in his life, people were in his _way_. Dear gods, teenagers were not supposed to walk _this_ slow! And really, he didn't like being out and about on the green this much. There was too much chance of-

"Loki!" Thor's booming voice thundered out of nowhere.

...**this**.

God help him. He kept walking, this time rudely trying to squeeze between people- _ew_, people, touching, bad, bad touching, ew- and get to the safe haven of the library. If he could just get to his quiet, solitary, book-laden sanctuary. Then everything would be okay. There amongst Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and Wilde, he would be _safe_ from his family and his problems and the questions that assaulted him at every turn.

If Thor got a hold of him and started talking, Loki would break down and let himself be coerced to forget all of this had ever happened. But he couldn't. If he did, he might just go insane. He was at breaking point, as it was.

Fun Fact #7: Loki is very soft when it comes to his- when it comes to Thor. He will break down at the slightest begging or coercing or big puppy dog eyes. Really, it's _pathetic_.

"Loki!" A big hand closed around his arm.

Loki very nearly let out a very _uncharacteristic_ curse. Hmm. Maybe Stark was rubbing off on him. Ah well. "_What_?" He spat, spinning- in the midst of a very lethargic _crowd_, mind you- to stare _viciously_ at Thor.

The blond young man looked taken aback by the green fire in his brother's eyes. "Loki, I've been calling you for _two_ _weeks_! What happened to you? Where are you staying? We need to _talk_!" Well, his voice was still just as loud and thunderous as Loki remembered it to be. Shame. He was getting a migraine from _hell_.

"Yes, I am well _aware_ you've been calling, Thor." He felt like he was talking to a two-year old and he really couldn't handle that. Living with someone who was the same level of intelligence as he was had spoiled him. God, let him get assigned an _intelligent_ roommate. _Please_. "I have been _ignoring_ those phone calls. If I had _wanted_ to speak to you, I would have _answered_. I didn't want to be hunted down and attacked like an _animal_." He wrenched out of the blond's overzealous grip. Yeah, that was going to leave bruises. _Lovely_. His poor pale skin.

"Loki, please don't do this. I didn't want you to find out that way." Thor sounded like a kicked puppy...until Loki focused on _what_ he had said.

And that got his mind racing in a fast, vicious, bitter cycle he was _not_ capable of dealing with right now. By the gods, Thor, you're killing Loki. "_Wait_." He put up a hand to keep Thor from going on. "You mean you _knew_ I was adopted all this time, and _you never told me_?" His voice wasn't shaking, his voice wasn't on fire- rather contrarily, it was _frozen _cold- his voice wasn't suffocating. But _he_ was. Whether anyone else could tell, Loki was shaking like a leaf, burning life fire, and suffocating like someone had their hands around his long, delicate windpipe. Is this what it feels like to be betrayed, over and over again?

Quite honestly, Loki hadn't been holding _any_ sort of grudge towards Thor. Thor was his soft spot and Thor had always remained guiltless and innocent in all of this. Until now. _Now_, Loki very much wanted to hit someone- mainly fucking Thor- because his big brother had hurt him deep down further into his heart than anyone but Thor could reach. He had stabbed him in the back because he _knew_ all that Loki had struggled with. He _knew_ Loki had felt like he didn't belong, and for good reason! Because he _hadn't_!

Of course, Loki didn't think about the _negative_ effect finding out that he actually didn't belong to his beloved family would have had on him any sooner than right here and right now.

Clearly, this wasn't his most coherent, level-headed moment.

"Um." Quite appropriately, Thor looked like a deer in headlights. Well, _oops_. "I-I did. I mean, I helped them...well, I helped them pick you up from the orphanage, brother." The quite shame and guilt in Thor's voice and expression was just _not_ pronounced enough to give Loki _any_ satisfaction. Not that he was sure he could even glean any satisfaction from the extraordinarily painful moment. _His heart hurt_.

"Do _not_, don't you fucking _dare_, call me **that**." And yep, there went every teensy bit of self-control he had. He had said a _bad_ word. Better look out, Thor, Loki's bout to _lose_ his shit. "You sat by me while I cried and hurt and ached over how Odin treated me and how I looked so fucking _different_, and you didn't say one word to me about...about this...this..._lie_?" His voice was dangerously low. And really, the look of fear and wide-eyed _surprise_ on Thor's face made him want to just scream. And cry. And scratch his eyes out. And rip his heart from his chest.

_Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies._

While Loki was a lost little boy trying to please his parents, Thor was hiding _this_ from him? Thor was lying to him? Thor was letting him wallow and drown in this unfathomable ocean of misplaced confusion, pain, and pent-up anger? _No_. Of course not. _Surely_ there was some mistake. This was _Thor_! Thor would _never_ do that to him. _No_. It _can't_ be true. Loki's hearing things.

Fun Fact #8: Loki's sense of ironic humor transcends the barrier between social and personal conversation. He is as sarcastic with himself as he is with the rest of his very limited social circle.

"It wasn't a lie, brother!" Mmk. Thor. You are just fucking asking for Loki to break the ever-loving fuck down and kill you. At this point, Loki was fairly sure he could claw the man's throat out of his neck. Yeah. He has anger issues. "You are part of our family! My family! You are my little brother!" Thor's face was actually heartbroken. _He_ was heartbroken.

_Thor_.

_Thor_ was heartbroken.

_Thor_ did not have the right to be heartbroken.

Loki had to take a moment here, to breathe. If he didn't he would either pass out or scream. Neither was something he particularly wanted to happen here. He wanted to keep his cool. Really, he'd bitched his 'family' out enough to last him a life time.

Count to ten. One. _I want to kill Tho_r. Two. _He lied to me_. Three. _He hurt me_. Four. _Why aren't I bleeding_. Five. _He looks sad_. Six. _Maybe he is_. Seven. _I don't care_. Eight. _Yes, I do_. Nine. _But I'm the one whose been betrayed_. Ten. _Screw it, I still want to kill Thor_. Maybe he should count to twenty?

"Thor. I am _not_ your family, I am **_not_ **your brother. We are not related in any way." Whoa, that _hurt_. Is this what ripping your veins out and stomping on your own heart feels like? Loki's pretty sure it is. "I am _not_ an Odinson. You know this, and have for a long time." He was fairly satisfied with how calm and collected he sounded. Too bad, that wouldn't last long.

"Father always said you-" Oh look, there's his Self-Control, running down the street, screaming, away from him. He almost waved. Yeah. He's officially going insane. No big deal.

"Odin? _Odin_ said? Yeah, I _heard_ what he said, Thor. He said I wasn't his. He said I wasn't part of this family." It was all coming back, the tight ball in his chest, the flashing red, being unable to breathe and feeling like the world was spinning. "I heard it all, Thor. _Every_ **_last_ word**." He shook his head. "I don't want to talk to you, Thor. I'm not your little brother anymore. _I never have been_." He shoved away from the man, who had once again latched onto his arm. Bruises. Bruises galore. What a beautiful metaphorical image of his heart. Hmm.

"No, Loki, please..." There were those painfully sad eyes. Painful, because that _should_ be Loki. It should be Loki holding onto Thor for dear life, begging him to be his brother, to not leave because he needed him. He had the _right_ to ask for that, to be teary, to be breaking down. But no, Thor was doing all that. Thor was having the crisis. _Thor_. It was always Thor. And as much as he loved the boy, he had always been put first, spoiled, coddled. Frigga had done her best, but even she had favored the perfect blond over her sullen raven-haired orphan.

Loki recoiled. He could feel little hot needles pricking the backs of his eyes, and his lungs wouldn't work and his throat was mutinying because suddenly his windpipe was too, _too_ small. And his phone was buzzing, it was probably Anthony and as much as he wanted to lean on the boy, he had to deal with this on his own. No matter how badly it hurt, he needed to do this. For _himself_.

"Stop calling me, Thor. Stop..._all_ of this." He waved an all-inclusive hand at his big brother. "It's over. The lie has been revealed. I'm _not_ an Odinson, I never was." He shrugged, ignoring the tears that threatened to drown his eyeballs and spill down his cheeks.

"Loki, no. You are my brother. You are Loki _Odinson_!" The boy was crying wholeheartedly now. Loki wanted to rip his hair out.

His heart was breaking.

His skin begging to be split open by a razor's kiss.

His mind telling him to do _awful_ things.

All just to get by.

All just to make it all stop.

All just to make the pain _go away_.

"Goodbye, Thor." He turned away, feeling the tears fall, feeling his lips tremble, feeling his body weak and worn and exhausted. And everything was just too much. He was on the edge. He was _breaking_.

* * *

Loki sat in the quietest, darkest corner of the huge campus library that he could find and sunk down against the wall. Everything here was shrouded in musky shadows and book smell. It comforted him in that old, dusty, untouched way he had loved since he was a child and Odin had just yelled at him till he cried. Whenever he had needed to get away from _everyone_, he had hid in the library at the house- mostly unused until he got older and practically _lived_ in there- and cried until he was calm and relatively in control of his emotions again.

Thor had never found him. It had taken Frigga _years_ to figure out where her son disappeared to for hours at a time. Odin hadn't even _looked_. Now, Loki wasn't sure if that made him extraordinarily sad, or just the same as before. Why did Odin _matter_? He had never established a connection with his adopted child. He had never shown care or love or even respect for Loki, instead, becoming a tyrant who controlled and broke Loki down into a million, heartbroken, confused pieces.

'_What do I do now? Where do I go from here? Who am I? What am I? Are my parents still alive, like, my real parents? Who am I? Loki...who? Am I even from around here? Is my entire life a lie?_' The questions spun like a destructive tornado in his head. _Loki Odinson_. He no longer existed. So who was in his place? Who was the _fraud_ that had been masquerading as him?

Fraud.

Idiot.

Nothing.

Orphan.

_Lie_.

These are the things that made up Loki Odinson.

* * *

Tony paced desperately. What now, _what now_, **_what now_**? Everything was falling apart. Everything. Abso-fucking-lutely _everything_. Well. There was just one thing to do now.

* * *

Tony strode past Pepper and Miss Fucking Flawless, into the conference room. "You stopped paying for my college, you heartless bastard?" He spit out the words before he was halfway through the door. It really wasn't a question, it was fact. But wanted Howard to answer for it.

Howard looked up in shock. _Yep, I'm still here, asshole._ The thought assaulted his brain grimly. This was not going to be fun. Brown eyes that mirrored his own darkened until they were shit-brown and glowering. Pepper nearly ran into him, obviously coming to be damage-control. -snort- There wasn't anyone in this world who could keep Tony from ripping this company apart, limb from limb, board by board, seam from seam. _Destruction_ was kind of the one thing he was really good at, and before this day was over, his father would know that _very_ _well_. It would be ingrained in his brain. He could _ruin_ whatever the fuck he wanted.

"Excuse me, I don't think you're allowed in this part of the building." There was a cold glint in the man's eyes and his mouth was a hard, white line of rage. "Furthermore, I don't see much need in paying for something that won't profit me _at_ _all_."

Tony picked up a potted plant and threw it across the room- he likes throwing shit when he's mad. "Doesn't _profit_ you! Am I supposed to be your newest _machine_, Howie?" He laughed, hysterical and a little unhinged- because right now, if Tony Stark is anything, he's _insane_. "The Stark 2.0?" He snickered, his hands fastening around the back of some white-washed businessman's chair until his knuckles turned bone-white. "Do you think I'm some robot? That I'll just bend to your will? That I'll just do whatever you want as long as I get money and booze? You're fucking _nuts_. _I don't need you_." He snarled, rabid as a dirty street dog. "But you, _you_ need me, old man. Without me, this company is defunct. Useless. _Gone_. Without me there is no future, because this" He stabbed a finger against the side of his skull. "This right here is the money-maker and you fucking _know_ it." All the blood was draining out of Howard's face. "You _need_ me. But I don't need you. _Whoops_. That wasn't part of the plan, huh? When you and I fall out, and the media finds out, your stocks are gonna drop past the crust of the earth and into _hell_." He looked around the room at all the wide eyes staring at him as if he had finally lost it. News flash: Tony lost it about five years ago, you ignorant _morons_. "And I'm sure any one of these lovely gentlemen will be happy to make sure they find out in about, oh, five minutes."

Howard looked like he was either going to kill Tony or pass out. Guess why. Go ahead. _Guess_.

Because Stark Industries is Howard Stark's one and only baby. It is his _child_, his progeny, his legacy. Tony was just an aside. Just an _oops_. Just _Maria's_ kid. Howard didn't care about Tony. He cared about his business. Every scant ounce of his love was poured without a second thought into the company, the legacy, the fame and fortune, the death machines.

"This right here, it's gonna ruin you. With a few simple words, I will have ripped apart your future. How does it feel, hmm? Feels pretty fucked up, doesn't it? Welcome to _Karma_, Howie. You just got some of your own fucking medicine." He snarled, pretty much positive he was currently foaming at the mouth. Yeah. It was pretty much a given that Tony had god damn rabies.

Now, there was nothing to do but get drunk and hope all of this was a nightmare.

"You're not my son. I never wanted you. You're just a mistake, an oops, you're _nothing_." Howard's voice hit his back like a dagger. Precise. Certain. A well-executed _kill-shot_.

He shrugged and turned to look at his dad. "Then maybe no one will miss me when I finally drink myself to death, like you've wanted to for years, huh?" He smiled, a scarecrow smile on a suddenly old-beyond-years face. Tony was old, haggard, worn down and broken like an old toy. Played with by few, discarded by all. Tony was a show, a captivating enigma. But no one loves enigmas. No one loves mysterious characters full of dark intentions and damaged pieces that really don't fit right. No one loves people like Tony.

_No one_.

* * *

Loki looked down at the small, innocent little blade in his hand. He couldn't believe it was still in his backpack, after all this time. How long had it been? Weeks, months, _years_? His mind was too busy to remember. Not that it really mattered...

..._What's one more broken toy_?

* * *

**Oops. Angst. THIS CHAPTER BLOWS, guys. I'm so sorry. **

** But, TEARS. Because Loki. -I get a little in love with my characters, ignore me- TEARS. Because my poor Tony. Gah. **

** Anywhoooooo. Please review. Tell me it sucks. Say you hate me. No, wait, don't. I LOVE YOU ALL. Hugs. Kisses. xoxox, you know the drill.**

** Oh, and because I haven't mentioned this in a while, and someone might have forgotten -snort-, I don't actually own any of these characters, except Miss Fucking Flawless and random businessmen that don't speak or have names because I can't be bothered with piddly extras, y'know. All this shit belongs to Stan Lee, you magnificent man you. **

** Review, pahleeeeaaaasseeeee. Oh, wait, did I already mention that? Oops.**

**P.S. There is a reason for all the Howard bullshit. Just waiiiit. Have patience. I know, I need new bad guys. They are on the way!**

**xoxox (already mentioned that one too, huh?)**

**(1) is lyrics from the song mentioned/ the title.**


	11. Chapter 11- Demolition Lovers

**Be forewarned, there is mention of self-harm in this chapter. So, please, don't read it if it will be triggering for you. Xoxox**

**P.S. The title of this chapter is a song by My Chemical Romance which was totally just perfect for this chapter in my opinion. The quote below in italics is from a song by Bring Me The Horizon. I believe the song is Crucify Me. :)**

* * *

_"There is a hell, believe me, I've seen it; there is a heaven, let's keep it a secret."_

"Howard, you have to listen to me! This is _imperative_ to our business continuing to be successful. Surely, you don't want the money to _stop_?" Howard's liquid brown eyes followed Obadiah as he paced in front of his desk.

Howard was starting to feel old. It was like age was sinking into his bones and softening his muscles. The alcohol wasn't the best medicine anymore, and in the morning, having a hangover made getting out of bed just that much harder. Coffee was suddenly better, suddenly more invigorating, suddenly gave him the courage to go through yet another day alone. Obadiah wasn't even half the company he had had five years ago. The woman reclining on his desk, batting her blue eyes playfully, her laughter ringing through his office like some sort of angelic music. But that woman was no more, and half of Howard's very soul was missing, waiting for him somewhere else.

And then there was Tony. His only son. _Maria's_ son. Her pride and joy, before she had died. And, if it weren't for that curly-haired, chocolate-eyed, dark-complected teenager, the love of his life might still be here. If it weren't for _him_, Howard wouldn't be so rundown, so weary and tired of this existence without his other, _better_ half. His very _presence_ reminded Howard of his wife, of how he should have given her more, loved her more, worked less and spent his every waking moment with that perfect, unblemished woman he had given his heart to. Seeing Tony, the living reincarnation of his mother's beauty and strength, ate Howard alive with _guilt_.

"Okay, what's your plan?" He sighed. If he did this he would never see that boy without seeing hatred in those brown eyes Maria had sworn Anthony got from him. And it would _hurt,_ because it would be as if it were Maria who hated him. That's why he had built the walls and cold indifference between them in the first place. It's why, for the most part, he had stayed away from his only child for half a decade. Because Tony had hated him long before this, long before the past tumultuous few months. From the moment Tony had swallowed those pills five years ago, he had hated Howard. And Howard knew it.

The hatred and bottled fury in Tony's eyes was essential to Obadiah's scheme. And now, after this morning, when Tony had threatened to throw Howard to the wolves, they needed this more than ever. It was time to enact the last phase.

_The money-shot_.

* * *

Tony flinched as another shot slid down his throat like liquid _fire_. It burned through his vocal chords and turned his voice into a raspy, gravelly growl. It was really fit for his mood. Everything in his mind was overwhelming and loud and terrifying and fuck, he had just _ruined_ any relationship he and his dad might've ever had. But hey, who was he really kidding here? That ship had sailed long ago. They both knew it. It was in his dad's eyes like a glacier every time Tony fought back and gave back as good as he got.

His phone sat on the bar beside his glass, screen darkened as ever. And really, it was _killing_ him at this point. Why wasn't Loki calling him back? Where was he? Why wasn't he answering his texts? There was a bad feeling roiling in Tony's chest like a cauldron of despair and helplessness. He felt useless, sitting here in this bar beside his dad's chauffeur, sullen and slowly drinking himself _numb_. That's all he wanted. To be numb, to not care, to not give a fuck about the fact that he had maybe just ruined his dad's company for good. And really, he _didn't_. He felt guilt, something he had _almost_ forgotten _existed_ in the throes of his devil-may-care, lets-burn-the-world-down, fuck-morals lifestyle of the past five years. So what was different about this? Why was there a nauseated, sickening feeling curling warm and unwelcome in the pit of his stomach?

Tony had crossed a line.

He just didn't know what line it was, or what the consequences would be.

And he knew now, that the grass was _not_ always greener on the other side. Feeling emotion, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And while being 'in love' with Loki was thrilling and enlivening and brought something deep into his bones like pleasure and torture combined, that wasn't where it all _ended_. It made pain so much sharper, it cleared his vision and made him feel shame, and guilt, and wrongness. He knew this was all wrong, he just didn't know why or how, and when the fuck had he developed a gut instinct?

"This isn't right, is it?" He asked Happy, the hangdog man who had about ten years on him. "I shouldn't be here." He frowned down into his glass.

"Nope. You shouldn't. But it's not like it's the first time you've done this." Hogan grumbled. And he was right, it certainly wasn't the first time Tony had found sanctuary in a dirty bar, or tried to find peace in a bottle. His religion was failing him. His savior was gone. Alcohol no longer held the answers, or the hope to live another day.

"I gotta go home, Happy." He stood, slamming the money for his and Happy's drinks down on the bar and standing. "Right _now_."

The man's face almost split from his huge smile. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Tony exploded into the apartment. "Loki?" He called upon being greeted by silence. There wasn't a single sound in the apartment. And, after tearing through every room, stumbling, slipping, falling, tripping on drunken feet, he decided the boy definitely was not here.

Happy was standing by the door, watching him rip his apartment to pieces. He was loosing it, like batshit crazy, off his rocker, lost his marbles, nuts- his phone was vibrating. "Hello? _Loki_?"Tony didn't bother trying to hide the desperate, worried tone to his voice.

"Hi, Stark." The voice sounded depressed, dull, a shadow of it's usual sarcastic vibrancy. It was like silver that hadn't been polished in years, tarnished, dull, unrecognizable. And it made an ache start in Tony's chest.

"Where are you?" And yeah, he sounded almost like a pubescent teenager when his voice was this high-pitched and scared, but god damn he didn't care because Loki was hurting and he wanted to fix it. _Now_. Tony wanted everything now, _now_, **_now_**. "Let me come get you. Okay? Just tell me where you are and I'll be on my way." He started running, flying past Hogan and down the stairs in his building. Happy was hot on his heels, huffing and puffing and muttering about rich, spoiled, drunk brats. Yeah, he couldn't deny he was every single one of those. But this was different, this was about Loki. Not about _him_. This wasn't _entirely_ selfish.

And okay, sure, he selfishly wanted Loki beside him, safe, warm, in his arms. But he could feel the boy's silent suffering, and it was breaking his heart into teeny-tiny little pieces. Not to mention reminding him he had a heart, and that was kind of a painful process in and of itself. No longer was the boy just _fascinating _and _interesting_ and _curiosity_-_piquing_. He was broken and hurting and small and _dependent_. Tony had never cared enough to let someone need him, to let them _want_ him there beside them when they were hurting. This was new and different and _terrifying_.

"I'm at the campus library. Please, hurry." His voice broke, making Tony's heart stutter a empathetic beat.

_Please, hurry._ Since when did Loki beg, or say 'please'? Something was wrong and he was halfway drunk. _Fantastic_.

"I'm on my way, baby. What happened?" He opened the door to the car.

"It's a long story. Just get here quick. I love you, Anthony." Tony climbed into the black Mercedes Happy always drove.

The line went _dead_.

Tony's heart _stopped_.

_Literally._

* * *

Loki rubbed his runny nose on his sleeve. It was days like these that Loki remembered all the ways in which he had never fully fit in. How he was too bony, too dark, too smart, too prim and proper, too peevish, too seductive. The way he walked wasn't even _right_. If Thor was a gold stallion that stomped and clomped loudly everywhere he went, Loki was a midnight panther, prowling and sliding through life like a silent shadow. It was easy to be missed like that, like a misanthropic shadow that kept to the fringes of the crowds, that never spoke, never voiced his opinion except when it came to his brother. If Thor was barreling towards some infinitely stupid mistake, then Loki's voice came out with ringing clarity and a smooth, subtle, inlaid purr that made all the girls take notice. But it wasn't them he was after. Most often, he wasn't after _anyone_. He just liked the satin curl of his own voice in his eardrums, sounding for all the world like he was made of darker pleasures like chocolate and forbidden love and the stolen taste of taxed teas.

He stared up at the spines of dusty, age-old books. Gold scrawled across their covers, betraying vague ideas of the thoughts and stories and theories that hid within them. It was Loki's favorite thing in the world, to be surrounded by quiet, whispering books. Books that held things only the mind's eye could see, that only a mind like his could imagine in it's own special way. He loved the delicate, fragile words that he was filled to the brim with, spilling over, dying to let loose these pretty sentences he held onto like a _lifeline_. Some things just weren't meant to be shared, not with the world, not with anyone but the demons in his head. To say Loki was tortured and secretive and a bit paranoid was perhaps the _understatement_ of the decade.

But amidst all these pretty thoughts and poetic ramblings about himself and books and the authors of the ages, Loki had one singular thought running through that brilliant mind:

_'Where is Stark?'_

The inventor should have been here a short _eternity_ ago. Loki felt like he'd been sitting here for hours. The itch in his fingers was getting stronger. For once, he needed someone to _save_ him, from himself, from his memories, from those demons that just wouldn't let him be. They followed on the heels of his thoughts like annoying, yapping puppies, biting at his thought process and growling when he shooed them away. This time, Loki had asked the engineer to come, because he needed his presence to get him through, to keep his skin unbroken, to keep his blood within his veins. He needed that spicy smell of pompous, spoiled genius assaulting his senses. He needed that warmth against his skin, light as a feather but ever-present. Even that annoying stubble that threatened to drive his self-control out of his mind completely, he needed that too. So,_ where was he_?

Looking at his phone, he realized it had been nearly an hour since he'd spoken to his tentative-boyfriend. A frown drew down his lips. Stark wasn't coming. The sharp pang in his chest was surprising, he would have thought by now he'd be used to this. And really, _shouldn't_ he? Shouldn't this just be another day to him? Why was he getting so _attached_, he _knew better_ than this didn't he? His last relationship...

_'Stop thinking about Thane. Stop thinking about the razor in my backpack. **Stop** **thinking**!'_

But, before he could blink, he had that razor gripped in his hand tightly, cutting into his palm comfortingly. He didn't _want_ to use it, and by now he should be leaving. But something kept him anchored to this spot, like it was the last place he would feel safe for a long time. Like, when he left this quite little haven, his world might be shattered again. Loki was scared. Scared of living, and all the dangerous things that breathing threatened to entail these days.

What a shame. He had been starting to look up after that conversation with Anthony earlier.

* * *

Tony couldn't breathe. Simple as that. His chest was tight and he could feel something metal sticking into his skin- why did it feel like they were reaching into his _veins_?- and pulling at something deeply embedded in his chest- was that his _heart_ they were yanking on? _Where_ was he? _Who_ was doing this? Why did _everything **hurt **_like the devil?

_"Anthony? Anthonyyyyy? Where are you? Come on, this isn't funny!" The sullen teenager sounded so young and vibrant, calling out to him as he hid in the water-heater closet and watched the shadowed form of his new roommate shuffle back and forth. "Stark." He could practically hear the eye-roll and the placement of prissy fists on bony hips. "I'm hungry and _tired_ of your childish games. Get out here!" The exasperation was faked, a facade to hide just how much Loki _loved_ being carefree again. He was just a sore loser, but Tony really didn't have room to talk._

_ "Alright, alright. Here I am." He unfolded himself and stepped out, much to Loki's unimpressed ire. "Don't look so upset, Sherlock, I'm sure you'll get it right next time." He allowed himself one very smug, shit-eating grin. Again, Loki _didn't_ look impressed._

_ "Call me that again, and I'll cut out your tongue, Stark." Ooo, back to Stark. Hmm, looked like he was in the doghouse until he could figure out a way to get back in Loki's favor- a surprisingly easy mission._

_ "What would you prefer, kitten? Would you prefer, Lo-Lo, honeybun, cupcake, sugar, sweetcheeks, dollface-" He cut off with a yelp when a book was thrown at his head. He looked up at Loki's stormy- but impishly twinkling- gem filled irises. _

_ "I'd prefer that we go eat before I starve and die on your hideous carpet. Seriously, do you _ever_ clean?" Loki toed a stain with a look of utter disdain._

_ Tony stared at the stain blankly. He hadn't a fucking clue when that had happened, only that it must've been in the past week and it looked suspiciously like the chili he'd had a few days ago. Whoops. His maid would have taken care of it, but he had had to fire her thanks to his father being a dickhead and refusing to budge on the whole 'No money' thing. Yeah, Tony was adapting _fine_. His carpet however..._

_ "I used to have a maid. Actually, I've had a maid all my life." He shrugged, figuring Loki would understand, having come from similarly privileged roots himself._

_ Loki looked at him with one perfect, black eyebrow cocked. "You don't even own a vacuum, do you?" He sighed. Tony shrugged. "Fantastic. We have to go to Sears. This place is filthy and you're cleaning before I even think of going to sleep tonight."_

_ Tony eyed the apartment through new eyes. Cleaning. Surely it couldn't be that hard, right? _

_Wrong. _

_Loki was a slave-driver. And here they were, in Tony's t-shirts - which, oddly enough, looked somehow perfect on Loki, even if it did dwarf his skinny little frame- and their boxers because it was fucking hot to move this much and work this hard on something so trivial as cleaning. But, Tony couldn't complain, because the scrawny teenager was doing his part- and then some because Tony was apparently _not_ gifted with the ability to understand the mere rudiments of cleaning sinks and bathtubs and using a mop and really, he's just watching Loki do all the work for him, but _shh_. _

_So, he sat back and watched Loki slave over his apartment, finally popping the caps off two beers and joining the lightly sweaty raven-haired boy on his balcony. "Do you think we'll ever be just..._normal_?" The wistful teenager asked him. Tony wanted to ask why he wanted to know, but more than that, he wanted to lie, even if it would do no good. Even if Loki would know he was lying, he wanted to give the young man false comfort. Now, when had he grown such a heart? All this time...he'd thought he was the Grinch with a heart three sizes too small._

_ "No, babe. I don't think so." In the end, Tony knew it was best to stick to the cold, hard truth. Because although Loki was an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in lie upon lie, the boy dealt best with blunt fact and hair-raising truth. _

Finally, the land of dreams and tugging pain in his chest faded away with a scream wrenched from his own throat.

* * *

Loki walked across the campus, a bit lost. Where did he go now? He couldn't go back to Stark's place, that was for sure. Again, the sharp sting of rejection echoed through his lungs and into his heart. But he pushed it away in favor of finding somewhere else to sleep. His dorm room hadn't yet been assigned to him. There was no family to go to, no friends that wouldn't betray him to Thor or his powerful 'father'. He sighed, leaning against a tree and feeling ever-so _lost_ and _tiny_ in this big, lonely world. And the stars slowly lighting up in the sky did nothing to make him feel any less _alone_.

_Lonely_. It wasn't a big word, it wasn't poetic or romantic. It was quiet and full of despair. _Lonely_. Lonely. Loki was lonely and broken and a little bit hurt. All around him were people, being of the same species and language, and yet none of the dissipated the big, smoky cloud of _doom_ that was following him around, threatening to unleash all it's thundering _fury_ on him.

Pondering this loneliness, Loki sunk down to sit on the dark green blades of grass beneath his feet, his back against the old lone tree. It was the middle of the campus lawn and there was a pretty fountain tinkling like flowing glass a few yards away. His backpack hugged to his chest like that spicy, cocky engineer who always folded him into a hug when he got into moods like this. Slowly, he lowered his head to rest on his backpack and stared at his arm, now glaring with several angry red lines across his milky skin. A dull, heavy weight settled onto his chest, keeping him from breathing normally.

Was _this_ who Loki was? The thought made him cringe. A boy who couldn't survive on his own, and had never gone a full day without someone he loved within reach? He had never thought himself powerless or hopeless before, but that was starting to _change_. With everything raining down on him like a hail of angry bullets, he felt like he had maybe always been this way. This desolate little creature. Maybe that's why people left or betrayed him at every turn. Was there always a shadow looming nearby to overtake him when he least expected it- although it really shouldn't have been surprising with the last few hellish weeks of his short life. Loki refused to see that he was wallowing in self-pity, that he was playing the victim- although anyone could see he _was_ one-, and essentially doing what he had always prided himself in refraining from- being the damsel in distress.

Loki's phone vibrated. Thor. He sighed, but something deep down in his subconscious made him answer. "_Yes_?" Dear gods, he sounded tired and worn and his voice was rough like he had been crying a moment ago. Actually, he hadn't been far from it before Thor interrupted his merry pity-party.

"Do you know where Tony is?" There was a type of urgency in Thor's voice that immediately caught Loki's undivided attention. He scrambled to his feet.

"No, why?" He could hear the fear in his own voice. "He was supposed to meet me an hour and a half ago, but he never showed." Something in his chest constricted. He didn't want to hear what Thor was going to say next, he wanted nothing but to be a child and put his hands over his ears and tune all of this out. Because, _yeah_, this was going to _blow his world apart_. He just knew it.

"Loki, Howard and Happy think that Tony's been kidnapped." Thor's dull, scared voice disappeared when Loki dropped the phone and hit his knees on the sidewalk, all the breath in his lungs sucked out forcefully and his eyes watering.

No.

_No_.

_**God, no**_.

* * *

Tony woke up to white-hot pain driving through his body at a thousand agonizing miles an hour. "Oh _god_..." He breathed, opening his eyes and feeling a bright light stab his eyes painfully. He groaned and tried to roll over, only to be stopped by pain blossoming like an atom bomb in his chest. Well, _fuck_.

Hot, prickling tears erupted in his eyes because he was alone and he didn't know where he was and damn did everything hurt like hell. Maybe he was _in_ hell. That was certainly a good theory, and currently, the best he could come up with for just why he was in gut-wrenching pain that made him pretty certain he was dead because fuck, _fuck_, **_fuck_ **he couldn't live through _this_. He had been through and put himself through some pretty serious pain- like that time he leapt off a building and into a swimming pool and ended up somehow breaking his collarbone, that had _hurt_- but this was on an entirely different level. A level he was pretty positive wasn't _possible_ on earth.

Someone spoke gibberish a few feet away. If it weren't for the extreme and building pain in his chest, he would've shot out of this..thing he was laying on and most likely right out of his skin. And here he was thinking he was blessedly alone. -snort- Yeah, because Life would be so _kind_ to Tony. Someone nudged him out of his sarcastic, angry pity-party. His eyes fluttered, because he really didn't want to see that fucking light again. It was like the _sun_ was hanging right over him. _Ow_.

"You might want to open your eyes, or they might..._make_ you." A careful, calculated, bitter voice assaulted his ears. But hey, it was _English_ this time. Improvement.

"Whah?" He felt his mouth slur, his tongue a piece of cotton in a dry, scratchy throat. "_Water_." He moaned, starting to sit up and gritting his teeth till he thought they might just crumble under the pressure of his tight jaws.

"Sorry, not till you speak to them." Yeah, that voice really sounded sorry. -snort-

Tony pried his eyes open slowly, squinting at the brightness of the room. Er. It was sort of a room. More like a...cave? _Really_? They had him in a _cave_. _Fantastic_. And the pain in his chest...well, he was just too scared to look further into that than was completely necessary right now. The '_they_' that his translator spoke of were staring at him stonily. _Great_. And they had guns. Wait, they had Stark Industries guns that he had seen his father crow and obsess over. _Beautiful_. Really, his situation was fantastic. Just, _fantastic_. Tony couldn't believe his motherfucking _luck_.

He licked his lips and swallowed a few times. No, it didn't really help, but it did give him time to regulate his breathing and notice that oh, _wonderful_, he had a _pulse_. "What do you want?" He looked over at the English speaking man who was reclining in what appeared to be boredom in a chair beside his cot. Tony was pretty sure he was dying, and this man was bored. _Bored_.

"Me? Nothing. They, however..." He waved a hand at them, which apparently spurred them into speaking in a weird language Tony had never heard before. They conversed with his bored translator for a few minutes until bitter brown eyes returned to his face. "They want you to build a gun." A paper was shoved at him by one of the stony men with his father's guns. The Jericho. This was _not_ a gun. This was a _missile_. A big ass missile that, _yes_, he had admittedly invented. "They can get you whatever supplies you need." A few sharp words were barked at the translator. "Apparently, you have a week."

Tony gaped at him. "A _week_? You're shitting me." He gasped. Because, no, genius that he was, that could not be done. By _anyone_. Ever. No. Just, no_pe_.

The man shrugged. "Also, they need a list of the supplies you'll need." The guys with guns were retreating, filing out of a door without even giving Tony a chance to ask questions. "My name is Yinsen." He held out a hand for Tony to shake, but something yanked hard on Tony's chest, making him gasp and recoil. "Ah, right. You might want to stay within reach of that."

Tony looked behind him. A car battery. He followed the wires which hooked to something embedded in his chest.

_Holy fuck_.

* * *

Loki was at the police station with Thor and Odin and apparently Howard, although he hadn't seen the older Stark yet. He wasn't really sure he'd want to under any less life-shattering circumstances.

"_Calm down_! You want me to _fucking_ calm down! Thor, my best friend is fucking _missing_!" Well, then. Two curse words in a row. Thor needs to be looking for some god damn cover because Loki's bout to explode into a big atom bomb of loud anger. "You have to be kidding me!" He stomped his foot, his hair swinging around his face because he couldn't stop moving. If he did, everything would crash around him again and he couldn't take that feeling of complete and utter impotence.

"No, Loki, I just want you to sit down and try to breathe so you don't pass out." Little did big brother know that Loki had already lost his shit once by 'sitting- although it was way more like kneeling- down'. He had also thrown up a few times, but that wasn't something he would readily admit. Ever. But the thought of Stark being _gone_, being _abducted_, somewhere possibly far, _far_ away from him made him nauseous beyond belief.

Right now, Stark would probably be laughing at how worked up he was. Well, no, scratch that, if Anthony was here, he would see the completely debilitating fear in his eyes and wrap him in one of those warm hugs that he knew were for him and _him **only**_. In a subconscious attempt to comfort himself, Loki's gesturing arms wrapped around himself tightly. A scared, shaky shiver slipped through his bones.

"I _can't_. I need to know where he is, Thor. I _have_ to. I can't. _No_." He shook his head, his hair- so unruly by now that Loki didn't even want to _glance_ in a mirror- falling down to veil the sides of his face. And tears were now threatening his eyelids with full on _war_.

At that vulnerable moment, Howard and Odin chose to come breezing into the room. When his brown eyes- a lot like Anthony's, Loki noticed, but not nearly as warm and liquid- landed on the skinny, disheveled, panicky teenager, he stopped on a dime. "Who are you?" Well, apparently the elder Stark wasn't one to stand on courtesy. Neither was Loki.

"I'm Loki. Your son's...friend." Okay, so he didn't have to shock everyone by saying he and Stark were kinda-sorta dating. Anthony was considered straight as an arrow, no need to ruin that just because Loki was almost completely freaking the fuck out and could barely remember how to _breathe_.

"Oh." Was all the man said, then turned back to the policemen who were lounging around in the room.

"Loki, Thor, why don't you two go back home. I should be back soon." Odin's eye was flinty and holding barely controlled anger within it's iris.

Loki folded his arms. "I'm not leaving." No way, no fucking how. Anthony was in _danger_. Did these people understand that? Or was it just that they didn't understand that _yes_, Loki does actually have a heart and it's every beat screams _Anthony. Anthony. Anthony. Anthony. Anthony._

"Yes. You are." There was a death-threat tone to Odin's voice that made Loki's hackles rise.

What Odin simply didn't realize is that Loki was not leaving this place unless he was carried out in a body bag. His boyfriend, the boy he fucking _loved_, was missing. And until he was safe and secure in his arms, Loki was not going anywhere. He planted his feet and let pure defiance seep into his expression. He was really just daring Odin to contradict him. There was too much bottled-up emotion inside him, letting some of it out in the form of fury towards Odin sounded kind of nice right now- _trivial_, but nice.

"Loki? Son?" Frigga's soft voice came from somewhere behind his straight, angry back. _Frigga_. Frigga was here, and all Loki wanted was to melt into her embrace and start sobbing. But he couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

He just stared at Odin stubbornly, ignoring Frigga and the small, warm hand that landed gently on his shoulder. It was with all the resistance towards feelings and love in the world that he shook her off. But he just couldn't let go of it all yet. Of all the pain and betrayal uprising in his very soul. Oh, he _loved_ Frigga! But she had lied and stabbed him in the back. Or that's how it felt to Loki.

Fun Fact #8: Loki is by far his mother's son. And despite how he feels, she has always loved both her boys equally, and he damn well knows it. He _hates_ treating her this way.

"Get out, Loki. It's not like you're in love with this Stark kid." Odin is up close and Loki has to physically restrain himself from killing the man. Yes, he bloody well _is_ in love with 'this Stark kid'.

"Think again." He snaps. "Don't pretend to know a thing about me, old man. I'm _not_ leaving. Not until Anthony is home, safe and sound." He growls.

And right now, the world is a cold, dark place.

His arms hurt from the open cuts he placed there.

His head is pounding from the worry bottled up inside.

His heart aches because he doesn't know if Stark is even alive.

His stomach is as empty as his heart, because there's no food and no love.

He misses the spicy smell that belonged to his small, compact genius.

Loki needs Anthony Edward Stark, like the tide needs the moon. And he'll be _damned_ if he moves before he's holding that boy in his long, lanky arms again and breathing in that deep, warm scent. So, as far as he's concerned, Odin can go fuck himself.

Then, big hands he's felt against his throat too many times bunch in his collar and shove him hard against the wall. "You're going to get out of here _now_. And if you _ever_ mention having a relationship with a man again, I'll _break_ you, Loki Odinson." He snarled, up in Loki's face, his eye blazing with hatred.

For a moment, Loki just stood there in open-mouthed shock.

He blinked.

"_Get the fuck off of me_!" He spat, venom dripping from his lips. "I swear to god, Odin." He laughed, shoving the man off his chest and dusting off his clothes primly. "You think you're _so_ scary and big and bad and authoritative. News Flash: You're _not_. You're just an angry old man, a _corrupt_, angry old man. And my name _isn't_ Loki Odinson."

Odin's eye flashed. "_Oh_, then what is it?" His voice was condescending and there was a sneer on his scarred face.

Loki sniffed. "Loki Laufeyson." And what the _fuck_ kind of hat had he pulled that out of?

Odin rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Thor placed a heavy hand on his father's shoulder. Loki cocked a surprised, although contemptuous, eyebrow at his former brother. "Father, I think that's _enough_." The depth in his voice furthered Loki's shock because he sounded damn _intimidating_ and really this was a fucking flashback to all those terrible high school years when Thor had been his damn _bodyguard_ when he was home and Odin was threatening him and he had _loved_ Thor with _all_ his _heart_ because he was all he had sometimes. And Jesus, as awful as they were, Loki _missed_ those days when his life hadn't been shattered to bits and pieces and there was still one person he could fully _depend_ on. Gone were those days. Motherfucking _gone_.

Odin glared at Loki one more time, then nodded and went back to where Howard was talking to the police. Feeling every bit of adrenaline that was wracking his body finally start to seep out of his pores, Loki sunk down, crouching against the wall. His arms _hurt_. He wanted to whine and cry and _sleep_. But there was Anthony. _His_ Anthony. No one else called him that, no one else called him Stark, no one else got to cry on his shoulder and use him as a human teddy bear. No, no, that was _Loki's_ luxury.

Thor came to sit next to him. "It's going to be _alright_, Loki." He promised, patting his little brother's leg comfortingly.

With tears in his eyes and pain stinging across his arms and in his _heart_, Loki was fairly positive that it was going to be _anything_ but alright.

* * *

**Well, to be honest I'm not sure if this is good or if it completely sucks because I didn't write it all in one day like I normally do. So, I feel like it might be kind of disjointed or something. So, if it sucks, my sincerest apologies. And actually this just started as a little baby chapter that was supposed to just move the story along...and yeah. Well over 5,000 words. Whoops.**

**Pahleaseeeee review. Oh, and this story hit 50 followers. Omg. So much love to you alllll. HUGS. MEGA HUGS.**

**See you soon :)**

**xoxox**


	12. Chapter 12- Skyfall

**The plot thickens. Ah, and the chapter title is Skyfall by Adele. Yes. Idk. It sorta works for this chapter. I think. But even I don't understand how my mind works sometimes. **

**As always, warnings apply for self-harm mentions and some amount of serious angst. Plus, death- although, the death isn't anything you didn't see in the movies. **

**And, since I haven't done this in a while- I do not own Tony Stark, Loki Laufeyson, or any of these characters. Some of the plot isn't even mine. All that goes to Marvel and Stan Lee and RDJ and Tom Hiddleston. Although, could I own any of them, I SO WOULD. **

**xoxoxox**

* * *

It was dark. Black. Pitch. Ink. Jet. Sludge. Oil. Coal.

The sky was dotted with little spots of diamond. Blinking.

Colors of azure and gold and moss flitted before his eyes.

White light and grey shadow swept through the world around him with the rising sun and gleaming moon.

Swinging round and round, stars and the moon, shade and bright sun rays came with the day, left with the night. Days passed in a blur, weeks in a dizzying flash, months in a slow, creeping crawl.

And upon all of it, a slow or raging river of salt water pouring forth from emerald eyes and down pallid, snowy, sharp cheeks. Great, hiccuping sobs accompanied by pitiful sniffles and shuddering gatherings of bravery to face the ever-passing days.

Black on white, words on paper. They were starting to think he was gone. The hope was running thin, in the world, and slowly, but surely, it was entering his own heart. Doubt. Fear. Desperation. Hope. Loss. Grief. Mourning. Was Stark really gone _forever_?

* * *

Tony stared up at the rocky ceiling of the cave. A low growl rumbled deeply in his chest. But in his whirring mind, a plan was forming. He would not lay silently by and let someone come rescue him, that just wasn't who he was. And, honestly, he had no clue how long it had been, here, separated from the sun and moonlight. But if someone was going to come, he was sure they would've come by now. His was on his own. They couldn't- or _wouldn't_- find him.

Yinsen watched him lay on the floor, arms crossed behind his head and eyes dim with thought. He knew the man was wary, but just as ready to be free as he. It was just a question of how, when, and with what fucking _imaginary_ army? He had seen their guns, top-notch, brand-spankin'-new Stark Industries hardware. And it made him burning mad. Someone had his dad's stuff, and was selling it to the _wrong_ people. The people they were supposed to be fighting against!

"What do they call themselves?" He asked, his voice a quiet echo throughout the naturally carved room.

Yinsen raised an eyebrow. "You've been here for months, and you're just _now_ asking? Why?" The man's wise brown eyes appraised him intensely. Tony shivered, he hated that feeling of calculating eyes on him. It made him feel _hunted_.

"I want to _know_...who's got my father's guns." He ran a tired hand over even more strained eyes. This abduction stuff was pretty fucking _exhausting_, not to mention, the new arc reactor thrumming in his chest was _not_ easy to build. Especially in a cave in the middle of god-knows-where with archaic conditions that were really fucking laughable. But hey, he's Tony Stark. There's nothing he _can't_ do.

He still wasn't sure how he had convinced them to give him more time to build the Jericho missile. Let alone as long as it had already been and the damnable thing just '_wasn't working yet_'. He huffed a sigh and looked over at the hulking mass of metal on the table in the middle of their 'room'. Cell. What-the-fuck-ever.

Long fingers tapped the smooth, cool metal in his chest, holding the shrapnel away from his still-beating heart. He had Yinsen to thank for that. The glowing blue that sprung into the dusky, dim lighting, scared even him. He, the creator. He felt like Frankenstein. But, really, wasn't that what he had always been? A _creation_. Terrifying and uncontrollable in its creator's hands. A brilliantly wrought _thing_, out-of-control and running rampant. Pictures from the newspapers and TV, showing this monster he had been born as, who he had become through the years, the role he had played. He was just a monster with a brilliant mind and handsome face. And now, he had the heart to go with it. Broken, damaged, so close to being _demolished_.

He missed Loki. That little green flame that made him warm and _human_ again. His cure, his humanity all wrapped up in a skinny little teenager with inky curls and wintry skin. The smell of evergreen, eucalyptus, and juniper. The hand in his. The heart he _longed_ to steal. The smile he could bring to life and the eyes he could make burn like a forest-fire. His hope. His escape. He would escape.

He _missed_ Loki.

* * *

Music pounding eardrums.

Brunet men.

Blonde women.

Bright flashes of green grass and sapphire sky.

Flowers the color of saffron and maroon exploding in satin petals.

Warm breeze pummeling his skin.

Sun's rays blinding his eyes with white light.

Everything was so sharp, so razor-edged since _It_ had happened. Even the music from his iPod, cutting him off from the rest of the over-exposed world hurt, cut, sliced through him. He was willow-thin, because food was too much to handle on his sensitive taste-buds. His tongue ran against his teeth, screaming at the jagged dentin's rough scrape. Each breathe was a blade through his lungs, each pump of his heart, a hammer to his ribs. Living _hurt_, everything was sharp.

Was there lead in his veins? He didn't want to move, to wake up in the morning. Every night, he read over the texts from Stark on his phone, teasing him, reminding him they needed milk from the grocery store, telling him he smelled good or had looked particularly fabulous that morning before class. Loki could still remember strong, calloused fingers digging into his sides, tickling him. That smell of spicy, warm, engine grease genius still clung to the shirt he had nabbed from his apartment when he packed his stuff. It enveloped him, swarming into his senses and creeping across his skin and hair and into his mind like smoke. Like the cigarettes he had started smoking to remind him of the inventor.

His roommate walked in, glancing at him and frowning. Loki was sitting on the 'living room' floor, TV blaring, earphones in, music screaming- the new alternative stuff he had started listening to-, lights dimmed. Everything was so loud and bright. The TV screen's glow nearly _blinded_ him. A hand appeared in front of his face, making him snap back, almost falling on his back.

"What?" He yanked out his earbuds, wincing at the sheer _volume_ of the TV.

"Are you _okay_? I mean...I know everything has been difficult recently, but is there anything you need?" The soft voice and warm blue eyes of John Constantine. A few blond locks flopped into his eyes when he leaned down to be eye-level with Loki.

He shrugged. "I'm fine. I just have a migraine, I think." He forced down the bile as the thought '_Anthony would force-feed me Tylenol._' crossed his mind. "Thank you, though." He strained to put a polite smile on his face.

Really, he liked John. He was a bit of a pyromaniac and had some..._odd_ habits, but Loki was not unaccustomed to that. His missing boyfriend had been reckless, strange, and eccentric. In light of that, Loki could deal with a few mishaps with the stove- which resulted in it being out of commission and the lot of them having to order Chinese takeout or pizza every other night- and a few pentagrams here and there. And there was that one time he walked out to the kitchen in the middle of the night and found Constantine chanting in the living room. That was a little much, but, again, it wasn't his first run-in with oddities.

And there was Steve, of course. Loki was beginning to wonder if the big blond hadn't requested to again have Loki as a roommate. Again, he was surrounded by blond, blue-eyed beauty. It irked him a bit, but at least here he wasn't expected to look like those around him. At least here, he wasn't genetically misplaced. It was shallow, but comforting nonetheless.

Already almost to tears- a feeling that nearly made him sick with wear and tear (because when was he not crying these days?)- Loki crawled under his blanket on his bed like a pathetic, pitiful infant. What had he done before his personal teddy bear had come along?

* * *

Tony stared down at the helmet in grim satisfaction, Yinsen looking on in controlled excitement. Finally, he had figured out how to get out of this hell-hole. Turning it over in his hands, he felt the cooled metal and the warmed smoothness where he had welded pieces together. It would shield him from any blast. Any bullet. Any little machination of death. Even his father's creations, or his own previous contribution to Stark Industries. A tiny little bubble of pride grew in his chest.

But alas, all good things come to an end.

The door swung open and the helmet disappeared under the table he was working from. _Fuck_.

Yinsen's pupils exploded in fear. God damn it. Raza breezed in with four guards, a dangerous look in his eye. "_How_ is our missile coming along?" There was a distinct threat in his accented voice that put Tony on edge.

"It shouldn't be much longer." He kept his posture relaxed, even when the bald man started toying with a rather sinister looking knife. It caught his eye as it glinted under the harsh lights. He swallowed the fear rising like bile in his throat.

Raza cast an eye across the metal warped into various shapes across Tony's worktable. He picked up a scrap, sharp, still bright orange at the tip from the fire. Tony steadied his breathing. Raza languidly prowled towards him.

_Breathe. Dear god. Don't stop breathing._

_Jesus. Who knew my heart could beat this fast? Loki. Yeah. Loki knew. Shit._

_If he puts that thing anywhere near me, I might piss my pants._

_That's gonna be embarrassing._

_Tony Stark, bedwetter extraordinaire._

_Could someone rescue me? Please. I'll pay the poor fucker who gets me out of this mess._

"You..." The glowing orange metal came dangerously close to his mouth. Heat whispered across his lips. His breath caught. Sweat pricked across his forehead. "You will _lose_ your mouth if this isn't done in two days. Inventors don't _need_ mouths, right." A deceitfully pleasant smile crossed the Ten Rings' leader.

Tony nodded, feeling inert and boneless. After the entourage left, he collapsed into a plastic lawn chair that had been provided as seating. Yinsen stared after them, his hand on his chest. Tony almost laughed at the pure hopelessness of this situation. What if he never got out of here?

"Uh, I think we should get to work." Yinsen smiled shakily at him.

And really, Tony was starting to love this crazy calm, even-keel scientist. He kept him on track, kept him moving, kept him breathing the scent of nearing freedom. They could both _feel_ it. This was make it or break it time. Just a few more pieces and the suit would be complete.

* * *

Loki was quite possibly _losing_ his ever-loving mind. It had been months, and Anthony was gone, still _gone_. The raven-haired teenager felt lost and hopeless. There wasn't a thing he could do, and now, he wondered if anyone could ever do anything? Maybe Stark was lost for good. Maybe everyone was _right_. Maybe all those pitying glances sent his way were right. His best friend, and possible boyfriend, was gone _forever_. Just the notion sent a harpoon through his stitched-up, beaten, bruised heart.

"Brother, I would have words with you." A deep, rumbling voice spoke from his left. Ah. Thor. _Lovely_. Because, y'know, his day just wasn't bad _enough_.

He sighed like this was the most tedious burden. Maybe because it was. "What is it?" He turned hesitantly to face Thor. The big blond looked a little worn, a little overly-tired, a little too sad for his usual sunshine-bright face. Loki shoved away the guilt. He would remain laconic and unmoved. This wasn't entirely his fault, and for once, he wouldn't accept all the blame. _Maybe_. I mean, if Thor kept looking at him that way, god only knew what he'd end up doing. -sigh- Brotherly love was a cursed and wretched thing.

"I fear your health is declining. Mother wants to see you. She's very worried, Loki. We haven't seen you since..." He shrugged and looked away apologetically. Loki's mouth turned into a tight, thin white line. "We miss you." Big blue eyes turned a little watery. Loki snarled.

"Stop trying to manipulate me. I know you miss me." He snapped. "Can't you understand for once, that I'm hurting? Not just you? Not just Frigga? And we all know Odin hasn't missed me for half a second. I need time, Thor. You don't just find out you're an orphan and everything is just fine and dandy. _No_. I-" He shook his head. This would be so much easier if Stark were here, by his side, safe and breathing.

"Just meet mother. She's sick with worry." The groveling tone in Thor's voice broke Loki's heart a little more.

He nodded. Because of that _tone_. And because, not for the first time, Thor seemed to truly understand that Loki was breaking. That Loki needed to be taken care of. Were things different, Thor would have been so close by that Loki would've had to shove him away to take a piss in private. But now, Loki couldn't trust Thor as far as he could throw him- not like he could even pick him up in the first place...- because out of everyone in the world, Loki had _believed_ Thor's every word. It had been that explicit trust of a little boy in his big brother. And Thor had thoughtlessly broken that trust. But something deep down told Loki that Thor hadn't meant it, maybe he hadn't even known the extent of Loki's ironclad trust in him. Thor was naive and insouciant, and likely to miss something like that. But Loki was the master of holding grudges. And this one he couldn't let go of just yet.

"Thank you, brother. I know she'll be relieved to get a look at you." He seemed reluctant. "Loki." He grabbed his younger brother's wrist, keeping him still. "Please understand, I _never_ meant to hurt you. I do love you, and always have, as my _brother_. You _are_ my flesh and blood, Loki. No matter what you think, I never considered you as adopted, I considered you purely as my own family." The crushing grip on Loki's bones was tight, and powerful as the confession that spilled from Thor's quavering lips.

Oh, _fabulous_, _more_ tears. "I know." He murmured, sounding very much like a little boy again, listening to his brother tell him that his boo-boo _wasn't_ fatal. There had been a few hypochondriac spells in which Thor had taken control and reassured his brother that _no_, he wasn't going to die anytime soon. And _no_, that fall from the swing hadn't fractured his skull. And _no_, boo-boos like that didn't get infected, because look, he's not even _bleeding_. And yes, you're throwing up, and yes, it's disgusting, but no, it won't get you sent to the morgue, Loki. Sometimes, Loki wondered how he had put up with him.

"Maybe you'll think about going out to dinner with me some night this week?" Thor's voice was that same, smooth, calming tone it had been all those years ago when Loki had been bawling and clutching his shirt in childish fright. Where had all that _innocence_ gone? When had it gone from bruised elbows and scratched knees to abandonment and broken hearts? When had it gone from kissing away the boo-boos to crying himself asleep at night?

Where had all the time gone?

Where had he gone wrong?

* * *

Tony smirked. It was done. Now, they had one chance. Just one. They would either escape, or _die_ trying. "Okay, ready?" The computer was set up, Tony was stepping into the suit. Yinsen merely had to bolt him into it, and fire up all the different programs on the computer. They had been through it all earlier. Tony had the camp mapped in his mind's eye. It really wouldn't be that difficult until they got outside. There, everything would become a tad more _complicated_.

_All those guns they showed me. They were Stark Industries. _He thought, running the plan through his mind again. He was going to fucking _demolish_ every single weapon they had. He couldn't allow that, he couldn't _live_ with it. And Yinsen's burning, wise gaze upon him when they were shown everything this camp had from his father's company, it had made up his mind fully. As much as they pretended indifference and aloofness, Tony had come to admire the older scientist. He had wisdom and something else that Tony couldn't really understand...maybe it was...compassion? He wasn't sure. There wasn't a name for it in his mind. But whatever it was, he _respected_ it.

His teeth rattled when the other scientist started nailing him into this metal contraption. _His_ metal contraption. Frankenstein rattled through his brain again, but he pushed it away. _Focus_. He was getting out of here, soon, he'd see Loki. _Escape_. It was so close he could taste it. Now, he just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. It wouldn't be _that_ hard. Hell, he was an iron man. _Nothing_ could stop him now.

The programs on the computer started, powering up the suit with the energy from his miniature arc reactor. It gave him a little rush of adrenaline, feeling the pure power strumming through the suit. It made him feel invincible, like just _maybe_, it wasn't so impossible to imagine that they just might make it. There was a little, rare gleam in Yinsen's eyes that said he was feeling the same thing.

It was gonna be okay.

Freedom was on the horizon.

_Loki_ was on the horizon.

Then shouts sounded. Yinsen's eyes met his. _Panic_ spread through the room like a miasma. They nodded at each other. The small, but highly powerful, bomb on the door would stall them for a few minutes. Then, they would do what they had to. To survive. To escape. To taste freedom and sunlight. Damn, Tony hadn't realized how much he _cherished_ that big, fiery ball of light. He could practically _feel_ their warmth on his skin- or maybe the suit was just getting hotter.

The door rattled, then an explosion _blasted_ his eardrums into ringing silence. Yinsen was reeling, but the computer was still running, the machine he was strapped into was still thrumming. _Hope_. He had hope. He couldn't lose it now, not when they were _so close_. If there was no will to live, there was no chance he'd get out of here. And for all the times Tony had wanted to take his life, this was one moment when he wouldn't give it up for the world. Maybe he was just being defiant, maybe it was just that god damned rebellious streak within him that said _no_, he wasn't going to let these rat bastards take his own life from him. The breath in his lungs was _his_. And _only_ he would take it.

He was almost powered-up, the bar was slowly but surely getting closer to 100%. In the darkness, the computer screen glowed like a beacon of hope. And he could hear again, even if his ears were still ringing a bit. His mind was racing, running through the calculations and steps to be taken. Everything was going according to plan. Now if everything would just load a bit _faster_...

Shouts rang out, sounding through the halls. They were coming. Yinsen looked at him. "There's not _enough_ time." _Ghosts_ haunted that voice. Tony shivered. The brown eyes that looked black in the darkness cast a glance toward the door. "I'll stall them. I'll hold them off." Then he was gone, grabbing a gun on his way and darting out the door.

Tony let out a stream of curses. _No_! This _wasn't_ supposed to happen. Yinsen wasn't supposed to be in danger. _Tony_ was supposed to go first! He wasn't sticking to the plan, and it scared the _shit_ out of Tony. He was never this strict, but god damn it, they were _both_ going to get out of here. Not _just_ Tony. He wasn't going to let that man get hurt. He had a _family_ to return to! A wife and kids! And Tony would be _damned_ if he didn't make sure the older scientist saw them again.

Shots rattled through the cave, each one, sending a bolt of electricity through his spine. Each bullet seemed to strike his nerves, again, again, again, and _again_. _Over_ and _over_. But with each shot fired, he knew Yinsen was still _alive_, still fighting. Then the computer flashed '**COMPLETE**'. And Tony grinned. He could hear men firing guns, but he could also hear men coming his way. He placed a hand over the crude version of his arc reactor. The room was pitch dark. Darker than a moonless sky. _Perfect_. His eyes were adjusted. He could see the men filter in, cautiously, looking for him.

The next five minutes passed in a blur. Later, Tony wouldn't remember a second of it. Until, until he came upon Yinsen. Blood was seeping into the man's shirt and he was laying on a pile of supplies. Tony knelt over him. "Yinsen? Wake up, buddy. We gotta _go_. Come on, man, you _gotta_ go see your family. Your _kids_ are waiting for you." He could hear the tremor in his voice, but he ignored it. Yinsen would _not_ die. _No_.

The man smiled, a trickle of blood slipping from his mouth and down the side of his face. "Tony, my family is dead. They _are_ waiting for me. And _soon_, I'll be with them. This was _always_ the plan, Stark." The pure joy in the man's brown eyes scared Tony. Nope. _No_. Yinsen couldn't leave him. He couldn't do this _alone_. The impregnable, invincible lone wolf needed a wingman.

"No, Yinsen. _No_. This wasn't the plan. _Please_, don't. I don't want you to go." And why was he suddenly sentimental? Why was it he was always able to be cold and calm and calculated, but right now when he needed most to be that bastard he had always been, he was breaking down and crying like a little boy? Something in his chest _hurt_.

"Go, Tony. I've saved your life. Now _don't waste it_. I'm _okay_. Better than okay. Go." His eyes flickered closed, _peace_ washing over his face like the tide.

Tony stared, until something fluttered to life in the corner, and shots fired off against his metal torso. Well, that's a wake up call if he'd ever heard one.

* * *

Loki sat by his bed, staring at the wall and begging himself to harden up. He was _fine_. He didn't need to cry. Not anymore. Today was the last search for Tony. They were flying over Afghanistan. Loki didn't hold out much hope, nor did anyone else anymore. It was most sure that the boy was _dead_. There hadn't been any ransom demands, no threats, no hostage alerts. Stark was _gone_. _Poof_. Like he'd turned into thin, sparse air.

A steel jaw and stony eyes greeted him in the mirror. He'd lost ten pounds, if not more. And yeah, he looked sickly, like the invalid he had been as a child. Small, pale, _terrified_. Now, he was small, pale, and _bitter_. Angry. Lost. He hated how vulnerable and screwed-up he looked. Like someone had run over his puppy and he wanted to kill the bastard. Maybe in a way, it wasn't all too far from the _truth_. He wanted to strangle whoever had taken Anthony, that was true. But Stark was not his puppy, he was far _more_. He was his anchor, his strength, his love. And damned was the man who had taken him away.

But that wasn't all Loki was contending with, and he knew that after all this pain had subsided- a very _long_ time, no doubt- there would be something else within him flaring up. Loki was not _meant_ to be happy, he had known that for too long. The Universe just wouldn't allow it. There was the family issues he'd been dealing with for years. Finding out his ancestry. Dealing with those brand new cuts on his arms.

It made him feel a little numb, to be honest. He wasn't sure if he liked it. But then again, what was the alternative? Pain? Tears? Sobbing until he couldn't breathe and shook from head-to-toe? Yeah. _Fantastic_. But in the long run, which would be more detrimental? Did he even care? Or was he _destroying_ himself? Did he want to hurt, to ruin himself? Maybe. He wouldn't lie to himself, there were few times when he had wanted to demolish his own life. But this was certainly one of them. The red lines on his arms attested to that undeniably. The truth was staring right at him. Oh, what he'd do for a well-told lie.

Fun Fact #9: Loki doesn't escape into fantasy, not even if the _sky_ is falling. And it most certainly is. His world was going up in _flames_.

* * *

Okay, so adding flame-throwers to his suit had been a remarkably fortunate idea. Tony would have been grinning if it weren't for Yinsen's body behind him, still in the cave. If he hadn't needed his arms, he would never have left him behind- dead or not. The man deserved a _hero's_ burial, but if he were being honest, a heroes grave was in battle. And Tony knew he'd _never_ be a hero.

He focused the flames mostly on the weaponry laying around. He wasn't leaving until every last fucking gun or missile was _useless_. _Charred_. Boiled down to _worthless_ hunks of metal. Things were exploding like fireworks, but he wasn't scared. If he died, now, no one would know the difference. He had been gone for going on six months. Everyone probably thought he was dead. Loki had probably moved on. All he had left, was making sure that Stark Industries was no longer arming these motherfuckers. If it was the last thing he did, he would _decimate_ their armory.

He felt a bullet whine into his leg, warm blood running and the joint collapsing in the suit. "Fuck!" He was kneeling. Shit. He had to get up. Slow steps. Baby steps. One at a time.

Another bullet hit the metal at his shoulder, causing his arm to go completely out of commission. He grilled the last of the weapons and hit the button for his jet-pack. Yeah, fancy shit for a scientist in a cave. He was _that_ good. And just a little bit proud of himself. A bullet flew into the gas that fueled his 'jet-pack' and his flamethrowers. Fan-fucking-tastic. This was gonna be _fun_.

Everything exploded.

Stars danced before his eyes.

He was flying.

Motherfucking _flying_.

Like a god damn _plane_.

And then he was falling.

Like a god damn useless metal suit.

He could hear the air whistling past him. Falling, falling, falling. _Boom_. _Bang_. _Crash_. Sand was in his mouth- _yummy_- and in his eyes and grating his skin. But holy fucking hell he was _free_. _Free. Free. Free._ He was free! He had done it. There's that sunlight. There's that fresh air. He could feel the sun on his skin and the wind- albeit hot and stifling wind- was in his fucking face. Man, he had never _cherished_ his life more than at that moment.

Stowing away the tears of joy, he dug himself out of the ground, throwing off dangling pieces of machinery and wrapping his more than useless coat around his head- as much as he loved the sun, dying of heat exhaustion would be a little _silly_ at this point- and starting the long trek towards..._somewhere_.

Where the fuck was he?

* * *

Loki danced in place. Natasha Romanov was fixing him dinner- because '_dear lord, Loki, can you even feed yourself, you big, lanky baby?_'- and it smelled good. Like, dear gods, it smelled mouth-watering, eyes-crossing good. And Loki wasn't exactly that enamored with food, but he was _ravenous_. He could eat one of those cute giraffes right now. Seriously. That woman was a _sorceress_.

The news was on. Just nothingness. It wasn't like he actually cared what the fuck was going on, but Nat had a special adoration for any and all things international- and if there was news on Russia, you better shut the hell up or that woman would _flay_ your skin from your bones. Yeah. She was a _tad_ violent. But hey, who wasn't these days? Loki had punched a hole in his wall the other day. Mmhmm. Anger issues. So lovely.

Something flashed, grabbing his rather flighty attention, and immediately _ripping_ his heart out of his chest. "Natasha, get your Russian ass in here!" Whoa, his voice was shaking.

His heart was about to explode.

Maybe _he_ would explode.

Tears threatened.

And he let them fall.

* * *

Was that the whine of an engine? Really, he was so exhausted and so hot, he was pretty sure it wasn't unexpected that he be hallucinating by now. How long did one have to go without water in this intense type of heat to get delirium? Surely he was there. _Surely_. But _no_, fucking hell! It was a helicopter!

"_Hey! Hey, I'm here! It's me!_" Was it landing? Did they hear him? Please, _please_-

The wind whipped his face, throwing thrashing sand against his skin. Someone was running towards him. Grabbing him. Holding him when he collapsed to his knees and started sobbing because _he'd made it_.

"You're okay, Tony. You're okay. It's okay, Tony." Someone shushed him, holding him in a tight hug. Oh god. He was _safe_. "You're safe. I've got you, Tony." He was _safe_.

* * *

Loki was running through the airport like a bat out of hell. Natasha ran beside him, throwing up a security pass that they'd been given as he darted through security and towards the landing strip. He could see the big plane landing. His boy was home. _Stark was home_. **Stark was home**. And Loki was about to burst into fucking tears again like he had when Natasha confirmed that, _no_, he wasn't hallucinating. They'd hugged and yelled and danced and cried because finally, finally, Anthony was _home_. Here. Again. And Loki didn't care if he was an orphan, or if his adopted father was a dick, or if his brother looked at him with sad, pitiful blue eyes anymore.

The boy he _loved_ was home safe.

And as he ran out on to the runway, and Stark trotted off the plane, his heart danced a happy jig behind his ribs. Brown eyes caught sight of him, looking like a god damn mess no doubt, and the boy started running. Strong arms wrapped around him, whipping him off his feet and spinning him around. He held onto Anthony's neck tightly, gripping him with all the strength in his rather emaciated figure, and wanting to scream that he'd _never_, **ever** let him go again. And yeah, it hurt as much as it felt good because Anthony was about to _break_ his ribs and the cuts under his sleeves were _screaming_ and tears were pricking the backs of his eyelids and his heart was beating so hard it was sure to _break_ _bones_ and his nose was pressed so desperately into Stark's neck that it might break, but he didn't _care_. Because his heart was _racing_ and Stark's arms were _tight_ around him and he was about to _cry_ and _laugh_ and he could smell that spicy smell again and Stark's hair was right up against his face and he was pretty sure that boy was holding him like he would _never_ _let_ _him_ _go_. Fuck, it was the most _amazing_ thing he had ever felt in his entire life. Because, _yes_, Anthony was real, he was _alive_, and he seemed to still be in one piece.

His feet hit the runway again, and he pulled back just enough to look into those warm, liquid brown eyes and see that smiling mouth and that abnormally slender face and he could touch those cheekbones and run his fingers across Anthony's skin again. A mouth collided with his, and he was happy to just let Stark kiss him until he couldn't _breathe_ any longer.

* * *

Tony got off the plane with a prance in his step for Pepper's sake. And he smiled at her. Then a racing raven-haired teenager caught his eye, and he was off. _Loki_.

He caught the tiny teen in a bone-breaking embrace, sweeping him off his feet and spinning him around. A laugh resounded in his ear, sounding like something straight from _heaven_. An angel. _His_ angel. The angel that had picked him up and pulled him out of that Afghanistan _hell_. All he wanted to do was hold this sweet-smelling, soft, tiny boy in his arms until doomsday. And those arms wrapped around his were bony with worry. But they were _Loki's_ arms. And even if the sharp edges cut into his flesh, he didn't _care_. It hurt, but he wanted this kind of pain more than he wanted _anything_ in the world. _Loki_. He _loved_ Loki.

He allowed him to pull back a few inches, keeping a tight grip around his ribs. Those emerald eyes- eyes the most perfect shade of green that had been played over and over in his dreams- looked into his with such love that he felt like he might just _implode_. Before he could stop himself and remember who was watching, he _crushed_ his lips against Loki's, holding the back of the boy's skull and drowning himself in Loki. He tasted perfect. Like tea and Colgate and honey, and maybe just a bit tangy like blood- because let's face it, Tony hadn't necessarily been _gentle_ with that kiss (he'd kissed Loki so hard their teeth clashed, _c'mon_, he hadn't seen the boy in _six_ _months_). _Perfect_.

Loki pulled back laughing and crying and nuzzling against his neck and whispering something Tony couldn't hear and the feel of this cool little being in his arms again was _overwhelming_. Could he keep him _forever_? Please, God? If Tony could have Loki's love, he would be forever content- even if he was poorer than a pauper and felt a little sandy still. And yeah, those past six months were going to _haunt_ him forever, but Loki could scare away the ghosts. And Loki could kiss away the fears. And when had it become so _imperative_ that Loki be there through it _all_? And _when_ had Loki become the cure-all for Tony's shit life?

Tony didn't care about the _answers_ to the questions. Loki was saying he _loved_ him. Whispering it over and over through those pretty pink- now bruised red- lips that Tony wanted to kiss over and over and over again. **_Loki loved him_**. Who cared if everything else was confused and fucked. He had the world in his arms. _His_ _world_. His Loki.

* * *

Stark didn't actually let go of him for a few hours. In the limousine, at the Burger King- where Stark insisted that Loki eat as much as he did because '_Loki, you look like you're the one who was in captivity. Not cool, babe_'. And yeah, every time Stark called him '_baby_' or '_love_' or '_darling_' a little shiver of pure happiness shot up his spine. And sure, soon, he might have to face Anthony being upset because of all the pure misery he had carved into his arms. But he was confidant that the man would just be happy to be there with him. He had kissed all over Loki's face, telling him he loved him too. Everything was _okay_, for once. He had his love back. His heart was beating again. And Loki couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

A/N: **Holy shit, the first like 3,000 + words of this were a bitch. Butttt, after it switched from pure plot and get-Tony-the-fuck-outta-hell to omg-everyone's-happy-again-let's-write-this-shit my writer's block (more like writer's I-hate-hate-hate-plots) went away ;). So...forgive the shitty quality of my attempt at plot. I don't normally plan stuff. But yeah, I'll stop excusing my shit writing. **

**Review, maybe? Yes? No? Ok.**

**Btw, I am so-so-so sorry for the Loki angst. But seriously, I would probably be just like this if someone I loved went missing. I tried to make it realistic? Hopefully it came out that way? **

**No worries, loves, thing's'll start looking up. At least for a little while. Maybe. I don't know. I shall try to make things a tad less angsty? Because I love you all. And Loki. Even if I'm a tad cruel.**

**I'm rambling.**

**GOODBYE AND HUGSSS. I love you all. xoxo**

**P.S. John Constantine is a little foray into the DC universe. Whoopsies. Hellblazer, I believe. But, yeah. Sorry if that offends anyone? I kind of forget which comic book world I was dealing with. Oops.**


	13. Chapter 13- Lullabies, Pt 1

A/N: **So, this actually got erased several times. So, if it sucks or seems fragmented or sounds off, I AM SO SORRY. I was literally about to start crying. Or, take a sledgehammer to my computer. Or both. I was really at the end of my rope. But I do hope you enjoy it and it isn't too awful.**

**Also, warnings for some triggering stuff. There's some self-harm, drug abuse, mentions of anorexia, as well as some mentions of any of this bothers you, go no further. **

**Also, just a reminder, I don't actually own any of these characters. I wish I did. I wish I did very much. But I don't. It all belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee, that gorgeous, brilliant, magnificent man. **

**The title of this chapter is a song by All Time Low. It's sad and beautiful and I'm not sure if it really fits the chapter, but...you decide.**

**xoxox**

**Word count: 10, 174**

* * *

Tony stretched slowly, taking his time and letting the slight tension ease out of every muscle in turn. He was on a mattress, his mattress, for the first time in six months. Everything was warm, and he was in clean clothes and had taken a shower. His stomach was comfortably full and nothing smelled like cave- or caveman, which he was _fairly_ sure he had come to resemble. His pillow smelled wonderful, like winter and mint..._wait_. Wait. _**Wait**_.

Tony opened his eyes to a mess of black curls and white neck. He grinned, feeling his mouth stretch across his face from ear-to-ear. _Loki_. Loki was _here_. _**With him**_. Curled up against him, a cool little being he could touch and feel and smell again. He had been _dreaming_ about this for fucking months, and now, here it was. A dream come true. His heart skipped a beat.

Loki stirred, rolling onto his stomach and burying his nose in the pillow with a sweet whine. Curls were _everywhere_, across his face, fanned out on the pillows, cascading down his back like spilled ink. It took Tony's breath away, the perfect contrast between raven hair and winter skin. And then there were those red lips and that elegant nose and those cut-like-a-razor cheekbones. Long fingers curled in front of his face, gripping the pillow with the vise of a dream, working his knuckles to bone-white. Tony had a _pretty_ good idea what he was dreaming about.

He frowned and looked over the teenager in a new light. His ribs were evident through the long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing. His hair was tangled- _Loki_ and _tangled_ hair? Two things that _never_ went together- and much, _much_ longer. The perfect waves that had been layered around his chin now hung closer to his collarbone- which was just a tad too evident for it to be healthy. His skin wasn't just pale, it was grey, like he had been sick or not taking care of himself- ya think _maybe_?- and there were dark circles around his eyes that promised he hadn't been sleeping. Normally, it would've thrilled him that Loki had actually worried about him, but _this_? This wasn't healthy.

Loki stretched again, obviously starting to wake up. His arms stretched above his head, the sleeves drawing up his arm when they snagged across the blanket. Tony's breath caught in his throat and his every muscle went rigid at the sight of that snowy skin. "Mmm." Loki growled sleepily, his back arching as he relaxed from the stretch. But Tony was still _frozen_, eyes locked on perfect white wrists. "_Good_ morning, Anthony." Loki smiled, but Tony didn't see it. "Stark?" The hint of worry in that smooth, satin voice brought Tony back to earth. But his heart _hurt_. _Bad_.

"Loki, why are you wearing long sleeves?" He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged beside the sprawling, long teenager who was blinking up at him with perfect emerald eyes and a slowly melting smile.

"What?" His voice shook slightly. Tony's heart beat a desperate staccato.

"Why are you wearing long sleeves?" The edge in his voice wasn't lost on either of them, and he could sense Loki's tension building. Just like his was.

"Uhm. I'm on this diet. And, you know, wearing long sleeves helps you burn energy by like, getting hot and trying to cool yourself off. So, I've been wearing long sleeves like 24/7. It's _ridiculous_." He laughed nervously, sitting up and fidgeting with the blanket that had been wrapped around them mere moments ago. Tony noticed that his sleeves were conveniently pulled down to his palms.

Tony stared at the abnormally stammering boy. Loki was _lying_ to him. "Are the cuts on your arm part of that diet too?" His voice was rough with- dare he say it?- _concern_.

And no, no, no, no, **_no_**! This wasn't how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to return back safe and sound and find his tentative new love perfectly safe and healthy and welcoming him with warm, unblemished arms. But no, the hits kept coming. He and Loki couldn't have a split-second to _breathe_ before life sucker-punched them again. How could this even _surprise_ him? How could he have _let_ Loki fall like this? How could he have_ not been there_ for him when the boy hit rock bottom?

He had _failed_ the _one_ person he cared about.

And it hurt like hell.

* * *

Loki didn't know what to do. What was he _supposed_ to do? He obviously couldn't lie, that was futile. He should have known better, Stark was _actually_ his equal to some extent- unlike Thor who believed every word that fell from his lips. So, he went to Plan B.

Every trace of emotion slipped away, and Loki became numb. Because that his shield, his comfort-zone, his precautionary measure when the sky is falling and everything is about to go to hell. So, now, the shield was up, the warrior hunched behind it. "No, they aren't." Simple, laconic, to-the-point. And _no_, he didn't have an excuse to give for the red lines running across his arms like the lines across notebook paper. He never had. And with Stark, he never thought he would have to, because he knew this boy _knew_ the pain he was in, the feelings that ran like white-hot _embers_ through his veins.

He was shutting down, putting everything on auto-pilot. Something in his body was screaming that they needed to batten down the hatches, this wasn't a type of storm they'd never weathered before. This was something Loki had _plenty_ of experience in. He still remembered the look on Thor's face all those years ago. So pained, so hurt, so betrayed- just like Stark's now. And it killed him, because who gave them the right to fucking _care_ so much? Who said Loki was some lost little boy who _needed_ _people_! He didn't need _anyone_. He had been alone all his life, and he would be for whatever years were left of it. And god damn it if he wouldn't go through it head held high and with all the pride of a panther.

Stark frowned down at Loki's now perfectly still hands. Inviolable, frozen, silent. A '_Frost Giant_' as one of his brother's lecherous friends had once called him. "Why?" The weakly uttered word nearly made Loki _explode_ from incredulity. _Really_? Had Stark not actually been _gone_ the past six months? Had Loki _dreamed_ it all, made it all up?

"You were gone. _Disappeared_. I had no clue where you were or if you were even _alive_!" He stood, shaking his head, his curls tumbling across his shoulders and down his back in tangles- _tangles_. Could Stark not see? He was a mess! And all because of some silly, utterly _irritating_ engineer who just happened to be holding his heart in those dirt-stained, chemically-scarred fingers of his. "You know, I've been worried sick about you, Stark. _Me_. _Loki_. The cold bastard who cares about _no one_." His voice was low and growling. The tears were threatening but there wasn't a way in _hell_ he would let them fall. Muscles were rigid beneath skin that stretched tight over his anxiety-emaciated form.

Stark looked up at him with wide brown eyes. They were glassy with unshed tears as well, but for some reason, it didn't give Loki any of the sick satisfaction that he normally got when he made someone feel bad. I mean, it wasn't like he went around popping little kid's balloons and kicking puppies, but he _liked_ twisting words and bringing out the shame in someone who _hurt_ _him_. And Stark was very close to wounding Loki _deeply_. He had always been sensitive about the scars on his wrists, even when he was 'recovered'. -snort- so much for that _wonderful_ recovery. But it wasn't like he had ever truly _believed_ that he would never self-harm again. He knew, deep down, that he was never over it, that he never stopped destroying himself, ripping apart from the inside out and the outside in. Maybe it was hereditary- like he'd ever know, now- maybe it was his favorite _sin_, that one thing he couldn't give up. Or _maybe_ he was just too fucked up to get better.

"I don't care if I was _burned at the stake in a prison in Iceland_. I don't want you to hurt yourself, Loki. You're too precious and _perfect_ for that." Stark stood, cupping Loki's pale, white-as-a-ghost face in harsh, strong palms. "I would take _all_ the pain in the world _for you_." Those brown eyes were burning, gazing like lasers straight to Loki's tender, bleeding soul. A tear slid down his cheek, unbidden. _Fabulous_. He was crying.

Suddenly, Loki's knees were giving out and he and Stark sunk to the floor together. Shoulders hunched inward, knees to his chest, the tears were wrung out of Loki harshly and painfully, feeling like each tear that fell down his face was a little piece of his _soul_ escaping the tragedy that is his life and now, his body. Every scar that would be left on his arm was a reminder of _this_- this fuckwad of events and tragedies and uncertainty and betrayal. It was like a scrapbook of the past months, which had trampled him like a stampede of elephants. He was beaten down and angry and confused and desecrated by his own hand, holding that pretty little blade.

He was here because of _him_.

He was here because of _his_ damned choices.

He was here because _he_ wasn't good enough.

He was here because even _he_ hated Loki Odinson.

* * *

All Loki knew was,

#1: It was close to 3 am.

#2: He had fallen asleep somewhere in his dorm.

#3: His nose felt smushed to his face.

#4: Someone was gently trying to shake him awake.

#5: He really, _really_ didn't like fact #4.

Waking Loki from any type of sleep is _not acceptable_, not for anyone. Well, unless that someone wished to _die_ by being mauled by a skinny, six foot tall _bear_. Unfortunately, several things quickly became apparent. This _cursed_ human being trying to wake him, was not going _away_. His nose was smushed against his mythology textbook, because he had fallen asleep reading it. Or taking notes or some such nonsense- _really,_ he should've been safe and warm in his own bed _eons_ ago. During the week, Loki was by _no_ _means_ a nocturnal creature. His classes were too early and too demanding and of course, coffee is _disgusting_. Not to mention, that one time he took pills to stay awake...well, Thor wasn't _happy_ being woken up _quite_ that early. Or that rudely. Really, Loki would've _never_ jumped on Thor's bed in the middle of the night without being under the influence of _something_. _Duh_, Thor. Or if it was Christmas. There's an exception to every rule. _Even_ Loki's rules. _Sometimes_.

"_Go_. _Away_." He growled, groggily batting away the hands on his shoulders. Familiar hands. Hands he would've _welcomed_ under _any_ other circumstances. Really, he would've tolerated these hands _right now_, if they had been wrapped around him and keeping him warm and _encouraging_ sleep.

"C'mon, you _gotta_ see this, Lo-Lo." A gentle tug on his hair. "_Please_? For me?" That cute puppy-dog tone that Stark has to a T? Yeah, Loki _hates_ it right now. Purely _hates_ it.

Stark, go away, Loki doesn't want to play right now.

When he doesn't respond, arms wrap around him and he's suddenly hoisted up in Stark's embrace, being carried bridal-style. _Not_ ok. Loki digs his nails into a very strong shoulder tightly, but Stark doesn't notice, because he's talking a _thousand. miles. an. hour_. Fabulous. "Right about now there's about to be a meteor shower outside. _Everyone_ is camped out on the lawn outside, and me and you are going to go. It's the most fascinating thing you'll ever see. Really. I _promise_. And I think you're a little mad at me still, but I miss you and want to be around you, therefore I'm kidnapping you." Oh yeah, _great_ way to smooth things over, Stark. _Fantastic_ idea. Loki's _thrilled_. "When I was about seven, my mom took me to see a meteor shower over Lake Tahoe. It was stunning. I think she regretted it afterwards, because I didn't stop talking about it for two weeks." He smiled softly at the memory. No, it's _okay_, Anthony, melt Loki's heart like an ice-cube in the _sun_.

So, instead of resisting and grumbling and being his usual irascible, _lovely_ self, Loki relaxed, letting his arms loop around Stark's neck and resting his head on his shoulder. If he had to _endure_ Anthony's somewhat _delusional_ ideas of fun, he might as well settle in for the ride. And his favorite engineer- not to mention, one and _only_ favorite human being right now- was warm and cozy and smelled really, _really_ good- to the point of ridiculousness. Loki curled a long brown lock of hair around his finger. Stark needed a hair cut, he hadn't done anything but shower and shave since he had gotten back from Afghanistan. Not that Loki was _complaining_, certainly. It had a strange effect on Anthony's features, it kind of softened them, pronouncing the crow's feet at the edges of his brown eyes- evidence of long nights squinting at little pieces of equipment, and even longer nights filled with drunken laughter and whole-hearted smiles. Loki liked it. Just a _little_.

He carried Loki all the way down the stairs and out onto the front lawn of the college. Blankets and people were strewn out everywhere below the dark night sky filled with the most _beautiful_ array of stars Loki had ever seen. The entire campus was blacked out, everyone having snuffed out or covered or turned off any lights that might interfere with the display in the sky. It was _breathtaking_. Loki smiled, maybe Stark _wasn't_ as insufferable as he seemed.

"Do you want me to put you down, or are you okay?" A warm breath close to his ear sent _molten_ _lava_ through his veins.

He shook his head, nestling closer to the teenage boy's chest and pushing his nose against a warm, Old Spice scented collarbone. It was all he could do to keep from letting out a contented sigh and falling asleep right where he was. Stark headed towards the edge of the camp-out, where Loki saw a familiar red head and a tow-headed man sprawled out beside her. Natasha and Barton. He stifled a snicker, seems he wasn't the only matchmaker, although, by now, Loki was curious as to why Barton _wasn't_ lying in a pool of his own blood. Natasha _despised_ the pint-sized art major, not that Loki really felt much differently. Well, there were only about _two_ people on this campus he could _tolerate_, one was carrying him, the other was a flaming red head who was _probably_ as misanthropic as he was.

Before they reached the rest of the crowd, Loki pressed a lazy kiss against Stark's throat, breathing in that hazy spicy smell that always made him lose a little piece of his mind. The boy _froze_, which only allowed Loki to bury his face in the man's skin more, driving them both up the wall just a _teensy_ bit. And why Loki feels so extraordinarily brave and decides on taking this risk where _anyone_ could see it is _beyond_ him. But getting that reaction and feeling that fire sweep through his best friend- who is ever so much _more_ than that- is something he suddenly can't get enough of. And he _isn't_ _breathing_ anymore and Stark is completely still accept for the fingers _digging_ into Loki's side and leg, and the heart beating like a _banshee_ in his chest. Loki can feel that heartbeat, wants it synched to his _own_, wants to memorize it till he can pretend it's _there_ even when they're apart.

"Wh-what are you doing?" And his voice is soft and quiet against the hum of the hundreds of teenagers excited and anticipating the arrival of rocks from outer space in front of them. Loki can _feel_ it against him, vibrating in Stark's chest, like another piece of the symphony of sounds that make up a human being. He can feel the uncertain tremble of the body holding his, the _desire_ and _want_ emanating off him. He can feel so much it's like a sensory overload, but it's an _addiction_ too. There's not a thing in the world Loki wants more than this feeling of feeling Stark's every reaction and emotion. It's like _cocaine_, for god's sake.

"_Nothing_." He whispered, sultry and seductive and where in the hell is this suddenly coming from? Let it never be said that starry skies and dangerous situations and long absences don't make the heart grow fonder. Not that Loki is just going to _forget_ every doubt and worry and objection to getting tangled up with Stark, but it certainly makes him just a _tad_ more daring.

Fun Fact #10: When Loki's last relationship ended with him in the hospital, Thor on a furious rampage for blood, and his dad a red, raging mass of bitter wrath, Loki kind of-sort of vowed he wouldn't get into another relationship until _after_ college. A year in and he's _precariously_ close to breaking that vow.

He can feel Stark start slowly breathing again when Loki pulls back, smiling up at the engineer with a mischievous glint in his eye that he knows sets Anthony's brain on a vicious rampage of _love_. The brown roiling in those adoring eyes turns Loki's heart into a burning _flame_ because he's never been looked at that way or felt this kind of love or cared about anyone this much. And for as many one-night stands as he's had, and the abusive relationships he's been surrounded by and the hurt he's been _buried_ jugular-deep in for years, Loki finds himself _wanting_ to trust Stark and _wanting_ to be right where he is, in his arms, feeling that strong, resilient heartbeat that he just knows is saying_ his name_. And even though Stark would _never_ admit it, Loki knows he's fallen so much harder for Loki than either of them ever would have _dreamed_ he could.

And Loki _knows_, knows like he knows there's blood in his veins, that Stark would move heaven and earth for him. And he knows, just fucking _knows_, that if there's a being in this world that he can trust, it's _Anthony_. And even if life is hell and even if they want to murder each other, Loki knows Stark won't leave his side. And those words are running through his head again '_I would take all the pain in the world for you._' '_I don't want you to hurt yourself, Loki. You're too precious and perfect for that_'. And the tears are on the verge of falling again because it seemed like it had been _forever_ since someone cared for him deeply enough to stick around when he was like _this_, when he couldn't seem to say the right words, or do the right things, or think the right way. And when Loki was _breaking_ _down_ and having an utter fit of _insanity_, no one ever hugged him or loved him or brought him to campus camp-outs to watch meteor showers. Never before had he had a knight in shining armor to sweep him off his feet and pretend like he _wasn't_ a damsel in distress, even if he _was_, because he _refused_ to think of himself as needing anything or anyone.

They're really two incredibly _lonely_ people, who hate everyone and feel more pain than there actually is to be felt at times and it's amazing how somehow they haven't _killed_ or _wounded_ each other beyond repair yet. Loki's pretty sure that's _probably_ on the horizon though, yet he can't bring himself to care or to build up the walls of his soul against this somehow _perfectly_ flawed human being who looks at Loki like he has the _world_ in his palm, like Loki is the _sun_ his world revolves around. And Loki's pretty sure that if anyone else gave him that look he would be overwhelmed or unhappy or discontent for some fantastically stupid reason, but it isn't, it's _Anthony_, and it's _okay_, and it's _safe_, and he wants this. He _wants_ Stark to love him, even if it's completely selfish and even if he isn't particularly _certain_ he's ready to say the same yet.

Gently placing Loki back on his two feet for the first time since he woke up, they walk over to Natasha and Barton. There's the slightest glimmer of a _smile_ on Stark's face, and a bit of an incredibly puzzling haze over his eyes that Loki knows he should be _upset_ about but isn't sure _why_. And above them, the sky is _erupting_ into an explosion of little shooting stars and big blazing comets and Loki feels the breath sucked out of him and an arm snaking around his waist to hold him close even though they're already sitting close enough to share the _same oxygen_. And Stark is entwining their fingers and the moment is _perfect_ in and of itself and Loki is starting to believe that everything might turn out _okay_. It _might_ be okay. Everything might turn out and maybe the scars he's carrying around in his soul will fade to be barely visible reminders of the past and the good times and the bad instead of just everything that hurt him so deeply it marked him _forever_.

Then that happy little world he had conjured up in the perfection of the moment dissipates into thin air when he sees a big golden mess of hair and a white-haired man wearing a eye-patch coming through the crowd of teenagers staring up at the sky where he wishes he could place his eyes again. Why isn't this a dream- ahem, _nightmare_- why is this real life? "Stark, I need to go." He murmurs, not even moving because he knows Anthony is so tuned into him that he could hear him if he whispered it.

He can feel the reaction of the boy beside him without even _looking_ at him, not like he can actually tear his eyes away from the two men heading his way. He quickly retracts his fingers from Anthony's and stands, feeling himself start to shudder _uncontrollably_. Stark is looking up at him and quickly scrambling to his feet and Loki takes a moment to realize that this is probably partially necessary for Anthony's classes like it is for most scientific majors. "What's wrong? What happened?" The worry exploding in those perfect muddy eyes makes Loki almost want to _cry_ because he had felt that before and it _hurt_. It hurts to know someone cares about him as much as it makes him feel all warm and happy because he knew that worry was the most _awful_ feeling in the world and tears you apart when you least expect it. He knew it was like a frenetic electric shock, making you twitchy and rigid and stiff and incapable of doing _anything_ but thinking about that pulsing sensation running through your veins uncomfortably and making you a _mess_ of a human being who does stupid things like self-harm and anorexia.

He didn't know what to do, so he grabbed Stark's hand and pulled him with him, running through the dorms and up the stairs till he got to a small door that no one had ever really noticed but him that one night he was drunk right after Stark disappeared. That night he had wandered up the stairs to the roof and looked up to the moon and wondered if it was looking down at him with as much _pity_ as he felt for himself, having seemingly _lost_ the one good thing in his life forever. If it felt _sympathy_ because he missed Anthony as much as the moon must've missed the sun. He realized that round and round the sun and the moon were mirroring each other and chasing each other and trying to catch each other. It was an unrequited love story, or maybe a tragedy like Romeo and Juliet. He had gulped down whiskey and wondered what it would be like to launch himself off the edge of the building and fall to the sidewalk below. Would it _hurt_? Would he _die_? Would it _cure_ all his pain, or just _add_ to it? Would it just be another scar he added to the _millions_ he had given _himself_ over the past nineteen years?

"Where are we going?" There was a bemusement to Tony's voice that made Loki smile. For once, he was the one flushed and excited because he was calling the shots and doing something to surprise the boy that never failed to catch him off-guard and yet be totally expectant of everything he ever did.

"Somewhere special. _Hush_." He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering if Thor and Odin would wait for him to stop hiding, if they were even here to confront him. All he knew, was that he didn't _care_. Because right now, it wasn't about Odin and Thor, it was about Anthony and Loki.

He climbed to the top of the stairs, suddenly feeling a little more _alive_ and a little out of breath and a little like his heart was beating maybe too fast for it to be healthy, and threw the door at the top of the stairs open. Voila. The roof of the dorm. Which, really, if he remembered correctly, that door was _supposed_ to be locked. But, guessing by the fact that 1) teenagers are ingenuitive enough to find their way around _any_ and _all_ rules, and 2) there wasn't a padlock in sight, Loki assumed that the lock had been broken long ago and stayed that way. A few million beer bottles that had to be a decade old were scattered around here and there, and Loki warned Stark not to step on any glass shards.

Side-by-side, in perfect, consuming, pleasant silence, they sat on the roof and looked up to the raining heavens, watching fireballs race across the sky. Loki felt a sense of _awe_. A sense of beauty curling up in the back of his brain and settling there to be further analyzed over the years when he would think back to this night. And he _knew_ he would, he innately knew that this night would be one that would _never_ fully leave his memory no matter what happened through the weeks, months, and years to him and Anthony.

"You saw them, didn't you?" A quiet voice by his side shocked Loki out of his musings.

"What?" He frowned, confused by the question and his mind a little muddled by its maunderings.

"Thor and Odin." Brown eyes were focused on the crowd of teenagers below them. Loki followed his gaze and realized he was watching Odin and Thor walk around- looking for him, no doubt. "They're looking for you?" He asked, letting his eyes leave the mass of people to rest on just one, Loki.

Loki frowned, watching the white head and blond brute weave around people and blankets and even the few tents that had cropped up all over the place. "I _think_ so. Eventually, they'll find me. I'm pretty sure when John found me up here, he told Thor about it. John was worried because I was pretty on edge." He shrugged, glancing over when Stark's lighter flicked to life and he lit a cigarette.

The boy offered him a 'cancer stick' but he refused. Now that he had his nicotine-drenched boy home, he wanted to stop smoking. And suddenly it all clicked into place. _Why_ Anthony's eyes were hazy, _why_ he reacted so strongly, _why_ he seemed so happy. _Adderall_. For the first time in six months, Tony had all his vices back in his grasp. Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol. Loki's heart clenched in disappointment.

"One time, my dad came here to visit me." Tony's voice was soft, but his eyes were a maelstrom of bitterness, anger, and fire. "I was pretty drunk and he was...in a _bad_ mood. It was a few days before the two year anniversary of my mom's death. _Everything_ was upsetting me, from the TV, to my music, to people _breathing_ nearby. And he walked in and I felt pretty sure my world had _collapsed_ on me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think. And he _laughed_." Loki felt his heart constrict. "He told me that I didn't _deserve_ to grieve. I mean, I didn't _get_ _it_ then. I didn't _understand_ what he was saying. Or what he meant by that. Now I do." The cigarette trembled when Tony brought it back up to his lips. "Tomorrow, she'll have been gone six years." He laughed, but it wasn't that warm, burgeoning sound Loki had first come to tolerate, then to cherish like it was the air he breathed over the months, no. It was something hard and bitter and fleeting. "I guess I don't fucking deserve to feel _that_, eh?" He shook his head. "But _you_ do deserve to feel pain because of how Odin's treated you. You deserve to sit up here and pretend like that motherfucker doesn't _exist_ for as long as you _need_ to, baby. Til the moment you march down there and tell him whatever your heart needs you to. _You_ get to grieve. _You deserve that_."

Everything was silent for a good ten minutes. Then, Loki fitted their fingers together slowly, smiling at the way their hands fit together perfectly and made it feel like sunshine-sharp warmth spread through him just at the other boy's _touch_. He plucked Tony's cigarette out of his mouth and replaced it with a short, chaste kiss. "You deserve to grieve too." They weren't a centimeter apart. He was looking directly into Tony's eyes. "Your dad doesn't get to _decide_ that for you. You had _nothing_ to do with your mother's death. It was an _accident_, Anthony. An _accident_." He leaned their foreheads together, letting the boy run a hand around his neck, a soft thumb resting against his jugular and feeling his pulse beat frenetically.

For a moment, the world was _perfect_.

Too bad it doesn't stay that way long.

* * *

Tony smiled against the lips that just barely brushed his every few seconds. They were so close, breathing each other's air and staring into each other's eyes. Green eyes that made his heart _explode_, gazing at him like he was the cure to everything that made the bubbling sorrow hiding behind his irises manifest itself. For a split second, it was like the world _stopped_, like everything suspended in time. Maybe it was all the Adderall he had taken, or that whiskey he had drank with it, or maybe it was the nicotine slowing the world down on its axis. But it felt good, it felt like he could sit here on this dirty roof with this gorgeous boy beside him for _eternity_. Maybe they could lock themselves away and forget all the things and people that stabbed them in the back or broke their heart. _Maybe_.

A cheer went up from the crowd below, tearing Loki and Tony apart to stare up at the large comet that rocketed across the sky. A grin turned his lips up, and Loki's fingers dug sharply into his. It made him feel like Howard and Odin and family didn't _exist_. Like tragedy was something William Shakespeare wrote about, instead of being a very _real_ part of their own lives. He knew Loki was feeling the same way. And right now, everything was comfortable and sweet and a little gooily _happy_ between them. It was a nice change. _But_, it wouldn't last for long. Eventually they would end up at each other's throats again, snarling like the feral, narcissistic wolves they were. Because as much as they got knocked down and end up crying in each other's arms, Loki and Tony are _anything_ but weak, anything but soft and sweet and meek. They're both _tough_. A special breed of _predator_ who've been taught by circumstance and been forced by life to take a much lower road than they were meant for.

Tony wallows in a sea of Adderall and whiskey, while Loki roils in his muck of razors and empty stomachs and harsh words. They've been betrayed and broken down piece-by-piece until they're mismatched limbs and have a heart too small and a brain too big and their soul is a tad fragmented by all the rough manhandling they've been through. But that's why when things get rough, Tony turns to Loki, and Loki turns to Tony. Because Tony _understands_ Loki. And Loki _understands_ Tony. And somehow, there's not a soul on earth other than those two who understand them, really. There's people who will listen and placate with nods and mmhmms and I'm sorry's. Maybe even a hug here and there. But not what they _needed_ desperately. Someone who had actually _been_ where they were, and _knew_, inside and out, exactly what they were going through.

He leaned back, sprawling out on the roof and staring up at the sky. The stars were a spider's web of blinky lights and falling rocks. In the middle of his chest, the mini arc reactor thrummed powerfully. How would he tell Loki about it? How could he _begin_ to ask the boy to accept him, now that he was even _more_ of a freak. He was by no means a catch as it was, but adding in that he was practically Frankenstein, a _monster_, not even a _real_ human...

"Stark, do you think there's anything out there? Like, a supernatural being, who cares about us and loves us?" There was a decades' old bitterness in Loki's voice. He had heard so many tones used concerning religions and god, wistful, angry, indifferent. But Loki was _bitter_. Really, what wasn't he bitter about? What weren't _they_ bitter about?

"No." He smirked. "You're talking to a scientist, love. God is a bad word." He ran his free hand back through his hair. God, it was so long, almost to his chin. And, y'know, his hair is a being in and of itself, unruly and rebellious. No amount of hair gel or conditioner or anything tamed the damnable curls.

There were a lot of other reasons Tony didn't believe in god. It would've been a shorter list to name all the reasons god could, _possibly_- if he were _another_ _man_ and this were _another_ _world_- exist. Religion had never treated him right, it irked him like a cat rubbed the wrong way- and let's face it, if Loki's a sleek panther, Tony's a swaggering lion. And all the people who had come to '_comfort_' him and Howard after his mother died had said things like '_she's in heaven_' and '_she doesn't feel any pain now_'. But how did they _know_! Where was the _proof_! Where was the _evidence_ that his mother felt a thing? He wanted to _see_ it, to _know_ she was happy, _to know she wasn't just gone_. He wanted to know his mother was looking down on him and caring about him and maybe smiling when he got shit right for once. He wanted that so very _badly_.

Loki looked down at him from where he was sitting, still. His green eyes were shadowed in the pure darkness that enveloped the campus. Even the lights from the city didn't reach them. Loki looked a little like a dark angel, like he was something from _another_ _world_ that Tony was privileged to touch and feel and talk with. "I used to think there was a possibility. I _wanted_ to think so, at least." He flicked his hair over his shoulder and stared up at the now calm sky. "But now, I look around me and see nothing that inspires me to believe that anything bigger and smarter than me loves me or anything in this ball of shit." He kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the roof.

Tony agreed. Even if he didn't want to, even if he wanted the illogical, dreamer side of his brain to conquer the logic in this situation. Even if he was a man set in proof and evidence and steeped in science, he wanted to believe in what most people he knew called a '_fairytale_'. Because there was _comfort_ in it, in that unshakable belief in something bigger than oneself. But he _couldn't_.

"My mom used to tell me and Thor stories when we were little, about how, far, far away, there was another world. And that world was ruled by gods, named Loki, the god of mischief, and Thor, the god of thunder. And they were mighty, strong, and they had their good sides. Loki was intellectual and knew magic like the back of his hand, and Thor was a powerful warrior, that could command lightning. She would tell us all these stories about these gods, and how they would band together and fight and reign side-by-side. Especially if it was storming outside and I was too scared to go to sleep." He curled up close to Tony, making him smile down at the minty black locks brushing against his shoulder. "Those are probably the best memories I have of my adolescence. It was the _one_ time when I actually felt like I was _just_ as _important_ and _worthy_ as Thor. But in the morning, I'd wake up to being ignored by Odin and feeling Thor on guard beside me like a pitbull, just waiting for someone to say or do or even look at me wrong. Inevitably, they usually did." He frowned down at their intertwined hands. "No one used to think I was good for anything." Not for the first time, Tony wanted to crush Loki in a hug till he couldn't breathe and laughed again, like he should've been. He _should've_ been happy.

"One time, she told me that Thor and I were one in the same. That we were two sides to the same soul. I was a lot older then, and scoffed at the idea that I could be part of the same being as that neanderthal. But maybe she was right, maybe she had a point there. Me being the intellect to his brute force." Loki shrugged. "I guess I'll never know." There was a sorrow in Loki's voice that Tony identified as _homesickness_.

Tony thought for a moment, drawing on the limited knowledge he had of siblings. Having been an only child, it was hard for Tony to understand all the levels and layers and anger and resentment and love and homeyness that made up Loki and Thor's relationship. It seemed to be a precarious thing, but something Loki had adored and carried close to the heart. The only thing Tony had ever carried close to his heart was a bottle of Jack and his robotic intelligence project, Dum-E.

"What else did you guys do together?" He wrapped an arm around the boy curled up tight to his side. Loki relaxed under his touch.

"Mmm, there was that time we found a stray dog." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Tell me about it." Tony rested his chin on Loki's head, feeling silky curls brush against his skin like a touch of heaven.

"Well," Loki began.

_"Thor, I'm tired. _Why_ did I let you talk me into this?" Loki's voice was that of a petulant five year old. But hey, he was ten years old and he was pretty damn sure they had walked a whole ten _miles_ by now. Where the hell was this place?_

_"Yeah, yeah, me too. But Baldr's house is close, I _promise_." Thor smiled at him brightly. Loki was gonna rip his blue eyes out of his face if they didn't get there soon._

"Damn, you were always a little ferocious, huh?" Tony teased, nudging the form that had draped itself across his lap.

"Shut up, or I'm gonna go to sleep and _never_ tell you this story." Loki threatened good-naturedly, even though Tony was pretty sure being interrupted was one of the many things that got under Loki's skin and turned him into a homicidal psycho. And Loki tried to blame it on his family that he was all _cuckoo_. -snort-

"Yes, dear." He deadpanned. And he could practically hear Loki's eyes roll.

_"Loki, do you hear that?" Thor stopped on a dime, Loki almost smacked into his back. _

_Loki huffed. "No. Thor, come on, let's go. I'm tired and it's hot." He shoved at his older brother to get him moving._

_"Be _quiet_!" Thor shouted, making Loki stiffen. He hated it when Thor acted like because he was just a teensy bit older he got to be the boss all the time. Um, _hello_, Thor, Loki is the smart one. "Listen." He whispered, stealthily moving closer to the crop of trees by the roadside they were walking on. Loki stood stock-still, ears straining._

_Then he heard it. A short, pitifully weak whine. It sounded like a dog, or a wolf. Either way, it was probably domesticated if it hadn't jumped out and attacked them yet. Loki inched closer to the sound, following it to some thick bushes. "Thor, it's over here." He murmured, keeping his voice even and soothing. Thor visibly relaxed, but Loki had always had that affect on the older boy. "I think it's a dog." He crouched down, peering into the bushes at yellow eyes._

_They eased under the bushes, foregoing any sense of safety and precaution for the idea of a hurt dog that gets inside every young boys' heart and makes him forget that injured creatures are _dangerous_ and not something a boy should deal with on his own. It growled softly, making the hackles on the back of Loki's neck rise, but he didn't stop. He inched his hand closer to the injured animal, making cooing noises softly. The ears that had laid back on the dog's head raised slowly, twisting and turning to better hear the nonsense he was murmuring at it. Gingerly, it leaned forward to sniff his hand, then his arm, then his curly black hair. He giggled when it snuffed his face, breathing over his nose and forehead. Then, he was rewarded with a huge kiss across his face._

_He and Thor slowly and with the extreme patience of children with a hurt animal, helped the dog out from underneath the bushes. "_Now_ what?" He asked Thor, sitting on his butt in the dirt, covered from head-to-toe with leaves and a few twigs and a _lot_ of dirt. Mother was going to be _so_ happy._

_"We have to name it first!" Typical Thor. That boy wouldn't survive a _day_ without Loki and his wonderful common sense._

_"Yeah, Thor, we should _definitely_ name it before we take it home where it can get food, water, and mom's medical experience." He rolled his eyes. Thor didn't get the sarcasm._

_"I was thinking-" He started off enthusiastically, pleased to peaches that his brother was _finally_ agreeing with him._

_"Thor! I was being _sarcastic_! We have to take him home!" He exclaimed, exasperated with the idiotic child he sometimes chose to claim as his sibling. Now was _not_ one of those times._

_"Oh. Do you think dad'll let us keep him?" He queried, helping Loki help the dog. _

_Loki snorted derisively. _

"Wait, Odin was a dick even when you were little?" Tony interjected. Storytime had _never_ been a good time for him when he was little, and even now, _no_ amount of Adderall would keep him still and silent throughout _any_ anecdote, no matter how interesting it was or how invested he was in the narrator.

Loki shrugged, looking up at him with faraway forest green eyes. "He's always been how is he now. Well, I guess things have gotten a _little_ worse over the past year or so." He stretched, carding one long hand through his long curls. Tony swallowed hard.

_At home, Frigga welcomed them at the door, worried sick because they had disappeared to go on their trek without alerting a soul to where they were going. Yeah, _kids_. "What's that?" She smiled, patting the dog gently on the head, then moving to kiss her two boys' muddy cheeks._

_"Momma, we found him by the side of the road! He's hurt!" Thor cried, always the dramatic one. _

_Fun Fact: Loki was _never_ dramatic until he became a teenager. Thor was always the diva before puberty. He still is, really. Loki's the quiet, reserved, melt-into-the-shadows-and-pretend-to-be-_invisible_ type._

_"I see that, why don't you two bring him into the kitchen, then go get washed up for dinner before your father gets home." Looking back, Loki always wonders if his mother feared Odin, or just preferred to have as little fighting as possible between her fiery sons and her raging husband. Loki generally ends up thinking it's the latter._

_They did as they were told and flounced down the stairs to hear Odin raising holy hell over, "There is a dirty, flea-ridden dog in the kitchen, Frigga! We decided a long time ago, _no_ pets! Especially not some ugly _mongrel_ they picked up off the side of the road! It'll probably die in a few days anyways." He spouted thoughtlessly._

_Loki and Thor exchanged tear-filled glances of terror. "He's gonna _die_?" Loki asked, a sad, broken sound to his voice that really only someone under the age of thirteen can effect. Thor's pout mirrored his. A small, pudgy hand slipped into his, because he and Thor _couldn't_ go through trauma without each other._

"Aww!" Tony cooed. "You sound like such a _cute_ little tyke." He tweaked Loki's nose, getting a cross-eyed glare in return.

"I'm not going to even _dignify_ that with an answer." He purred contemptuously. "Frigga sent us out, then, reassuring us that the dog was fine. I thought she was going to _murder_ Odin for scaring us like that. I'm not sure what they talked about after we left the kitchen, but the dog '_ran away_' a few days later. Me and Thor were heartbroken, pretty much glued to each other in grief for the next few weeks." He shrugged. "It was the first and last pet I've ever had."

Tony ran his hands through silky curls rhythmically. "That's awful! You were kids and he wouldn't even let you keep a dog around?" Tony scoffed, whatta dick. He was really starting to abhor Odin. I mean, his dad hadn't been much better, but who the fuck is so heartless as to say that shit around kids? Jesus.

"Nah. I mean, it wasn't that bad _comparatively_." Oh, well, he knew what that meant.

"Spill it." He demanded, he was kind of starting to like this. He was finally learning about the boy he had been fucking curious as George about for _centuries_.

Loki chuckled, launching into a story smoothly.

_"_Loki_!" Odin sounded pretty much like a rage machine on roids. _Joy_. _

_Reluctantly, he trotted downstairs to the garage, where a beet-red Odin was standing beside a rather guilty Thor. Uh-oh. "Yes, sir?" He responded respectfully, strolling over to where they were standing by one of Odin's antique cars- in other words, his pride and joy that, if you got a fingerprint on, you would get your hand chopped off. A bit belatedly, he realized the car was scarred on one side by a huge gash in the paint. _

"Uh-oh." Tony murmured.

"Yeah. Exactly." Loki agreed, nodding.

_"Thor tells me you took the car last night without my permission." _Oh_, had he now? "Yesterday, this gash was not here. Now, it is. You were the last to use it. So, why don't you tell me what happened." The angry undertone in Odin's voice made him want to start running for the border. Thor was keeping his eyes carefully drilled to the floor at his feet. Loki was going to _scalp_ him like a bitchy squaw. Oh, that boy was going to wish he had kept his pretty little mouth _shut_._

_"Um. Well." Loki was a skilled liar. This was really not a question of _if_ he could come up with a believable story, more of whether he _wanted_ to stick his neck out for Thor. He was really leaning towards a '_no_' on that, but then remembered Thor's upcoming game. And knowing Odin's penchant for punishments and taking away what one loved most, he decided to be the angelic little brother everyone knew he was. "I was pissed at you, so I went out and took the car. While I was in a store, someone ran up against the car. I came back, there was no one around and...this." He gestured towards the eyesore._

_Odin turned almost purple. Oh, how Loki wanted to swallow back every word he had just uttered. But, before he could turn back time, a big, meaty fist slammed into his nose. He fell back, falling to the ground like a toddler just learning to walk. A shocked hand on his profusely bleeding nose and eyes the size of Texas. That same fist dragged him to his feet by his collar. "Don't you _ever_ touch my car again, Loki." His voice sounded like the grim reaper reincarnate. Loki would've gulped if he wasn't afraid of a stomach-ful of blood. _

_As Odin walked away, Loki stared down at the floor and let the feelings of anger, pain, sorrow, and that creeping sense of self-deprecation that every victim of abuse gets. It all washed over him like an emotional tsunami wave. Why, oh, _why_ had he taken the blame? Maybe because, deep down, he _knew_ it would get ugly, and the last thing he wanted was for Thor to have to feel this same burning shunning, this hurtful spurning he dealt with day-in and day-out. He was the castaway, now. And he would be until Frigga came running down to hug and kiss all his burdens away and fix up his nose and tell him how Odin _hadn't_ meant it, even though Loki would know _better_ and not believe a word she said. Loki was a _fantastic_ liar, even when he was lying to _himself_. This wouldn't be any special exception._

Tony wanted to go down to that party below them and find Odin and break his face. He couldn't wipe the expression of disgust off his face, even if abusive fathers were nothing new to him. "He _hit_ you. For scratching his car, which you didn't even _do_." His voice sounded like a lion's angry growl.

Loki smirked. "That's what I get for helping my brother out. He made it up to me, though. It was the first time my dad ever hit me, and I swear I think Thor just about got into a physical confrontation with him over it." He shrugged. "It wasn't the last time. But I knew it wouldn't be when it happened. Odin's a bully, even with his own children. He has Thor so scared of crossing him, that he isn't supporting me like he used to when we were younger." The hint of sorrow was back in his voice.

Tony sat silently for a moment, scanning the crowd for people he knew. The meteor shower had slowed, only a shooting star or two every thirty minutes or so. He stared up at the sky, wondering what he could say to make the sting of being a victim fade away a little. But there wasn't anything. He knew that from experience. It makes you feel less than worthy, like less of a human being, because someone you love hates you enough to bring you _actual_ pain.

Finally, he rested his forehead against Loki's. "I'm _sorry_, baby." And he wasn't just talking about that first punch or all the ones that followed, but he was talking about leaving him for six months, for not being there to catch him when he fell, for getting upset about his cuts, for having a freaky thing stuck deep in his chest to keep him alive, for understanding everything so deeply that it intensified even Loki's agony.

He had enough sorrys to fill the world from the stars to the grass below.

* * *

Loki looked over at where Stark was finally sleeping, snoring softly. Tonight, he had shared a bit about himself that he hadn't ever really told anyone who hadn't been there when it was happening to witness it themselves. And it hadn't been like it usually was, like stripping the marrow from his bones and the veins from his 'neath his skin. It wasn't _pleasant_, sure, but it came _easier_. Maybe _everything_ was easier when it came to Anthony.

He stretched out beside the sprawling engineer, pressing his face against Stark's neck, nuzzling his nose against the boy's shoulder when he stirred and wrapped a comfortably heavy arm around Loki's thin torso. It pulled him _close_, into the warmth that seemed to rise off Anthony's skin even in the coldest weather. And they both smelled a little like a late night, and cigarettes, and faded whiskey. But they had a canopy of stars above them, and the ability to fall asleep wrapped in each other, happy, content, warm.

Loki's eyes closed as the last shooting star of the night dissolved in the sky above.

* * *

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Loki's voice was high-pitched and hurting his own ears. And in about ten seconds, he was going to start _breathing_ _fire_. Dragon-Loki enters the stage.

In his living room, sat a sleepy Thor and a _very_ unhappy Odin. Stark's hand tightened around his own, and he could hear a groggy growl break loose from his throat. This was _not_ going to end well, he could already see it, not with them all here, not with Anthony being edgy from last night, not with Loki wanting to rip someone's head off because he was dirty from spending the night under the stars, and because his hair looked like a literal bird's nest. _Not_ attractive. At all. Someone _shoot_ him before he massacres everyone in the world. _Single_-_handedly_. Maybe with Stark as his assistant.

"Goodmorning." Odin's voice was curt, and Loki really wanted to claw his ears off his head because that voice was _not_ something he could tolerate this soon after waking up.

Today was going to be a bad, _bad_, **_bad_ **day.

Stark grumbled something unintelligible. "Look, Odin, I don't know what you think you're doing here, but you aren't _welcome_ here. You are _trespassing_." He snapped, something in his brain screaming and ripping out it's hair and rocking back and forth- essentially having the mental breakdown he _should_ be currently going through. But he's _not_, he's acting _relatively_ sane. _Relatively_ being the operative word.

"I was invited in by your dorm-mate. And that's what I came here to talk to you about." Oh, _shit_. Loki's seeing motherfucking _red_. "I found out that you and Thor sharing a dorm would cut costs in half for your boarding. You'll be moving in with him by the end of the week, and no later." There was a tone of no-surrender in Odin's voice.

Something nasty and wrathful and PMSing bitch-wolf rose up in Loki's throat like bile. And he wanted to _scream_ so many things at the man in front of him, already standing like the issue had been settled and there was nothing more to discuss. Oh, _contrare_, my dear old man. Loki is not even _close_ to being done with you. He is going to chew you up and spit you out. "You aren't my dad, and you will not order me around like I am any less than you or Thor. I won't take this shit from you any more, old man." He growled, his voice deadly low. "And I will not be moving in with Thor, because you made an agreement with me that as long as I went to this college, I would not be staying with anyone I was remotely related to. You _promised_ me that, Odin."

The man regarded him coldly. "And I also promise you, that if you refuse to move, I wont be paying your tuition any longer."

Loki's blood started to boil.

* * *

A/N:** Oh, hi. Did you survive this monster? If you've made it all the way to this point, I congratulate you and sympathize with you. This chapter was a beast. And it also kind of sucks. And it's only part one of this two part thingie. I do hope you paid attention though, because some minor details are going to be blown out of proportion and made into major details eventually. (Especially about Loki's last relationship.) **

**This was a happy, pretty, rare gem of a nice chapter. I had to almost stab myself in the eye with a pencil to keep from angst. And I'm not sure I even achieved that goal. BUT I figured you guys deserved it after all the angst I've put you through. Also, there will be some bad-guy shit going down eventually. So, yeah, this might be the last of true happy chapters you see for a while...**

**Please review? I mean, all of the reviews I get make me smile so big. You guys are so amazing! I have the best viewers/reviewers/followers on the site. LOVE Y'ALL. -Oh my gosh, I've never said y'all-**

**xoxox, till next time, loves.**

**(_P.S. I forgot to mention that the idea for Loki's excuses at the beginning of the chapter are all credit to The Soul Soldier ;). Thanks, lovey!)_**


	14. Chapter 14- Lullabies Pt 2

A/N:** A little forewarning/ apology. It's late (and yes, I'm aware that's a pretty popular excuse from me), and I'm sitting here staring at the screen with this "WUT" look on my face because the tense I'm writing in is kinda screwy. I tried to change it, then went like "...wait...", then pretty much had a "fuck it allllll" moment and decided that if the tense switches, it switches. So, if it's a zig-zag terrible mess of a fucking chapter tense-wise (and any other -wise there ever was) I do sincerely apologize. Also, there's mentions of the usual. Self-harm, anorexia, lots of abuse (let's face it, that's become a pretty big part of this fanfic. I never intended for that to happen. Don't shoot me, please), and possibly other sad things I've forgotten since it's 4:30 am. Legit, everything that's usually a warning. All the stuff you can think of. Even mention of possible rape. DO NOT GO ANY FURTHER WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGING THIS.**

**Otherwise, enjoy this clusterfuck of extreme angst. They say, when you read this chapter, you can still hear my heart breaking. **

**Oh, look. My humor blows. Yay.**

**On to the show :).**

**xoxox**

* * *

The man regarded him coldly. "And I also promise you, that if you refuse to move, I wont be paying your tuition any longer."

Loki's blood started to boil. But for once, he was hellbent on staying strong, looking just as neutral and heartless as the man in front of him. "Tell me the truth, Odin. Did I _ever_ matter to you? Did you ever consider me your son? Was I ever, just _once_, good enough for you?" His voice was about as warm as an Arctic breeze. He couldn't have explained the plethora of ugly feelings raging through him like a goddamn _forest_ _fire_. Because the world was spinning so fast, he couldn't catch his breath or think clearly or even stay steady on his feet.

It had _always_ been this way. Everything that Loki cherished as his mental stability and sanity went flying apart like fireworks every time Odin even looked at him. He was suddenly a little kid again, getting yelled at for breaking that pretty vase his mother had kept filled with roses. The petals were red and wet on the floor like _blood_, oozing with the water across the floor and broken shards of sharp porcelain. Odin was big and intimidating and his voice was making Loki shake and his throat burn as he tried and tried not to cry. He was _trying_ so hard! He wanted so _badly_ to make his father _like_ him! Why was he so _awful_? Why was he so spiteful and mean? Why was he just a shitty excuse for a son? Why couldn't he be more like _Thor_? Odin liked _him_ so much, but he seemed to _hate_ _Loki_. It broke his young heart, the first of many times when he would retreat to the library to stitch his wounds and find a false smile to wear amongst those musty, years-worn pages.

A flinty blue eye regarded him haughtily. "Not for a second." Then, the aged, white-haired senator did something that is about the equivalent of a fire-heated brand against Loki's flesh. He _smiled_. Big and toothy and blindingly brilliant.

Loki wasn't sure if it was the words or the smile that did it, but finally, he completely lost it. "So, I was just _nothing_ to you? Just a newspaper article and a reelection? Is that _it_? A way to placate your wife, to get someone off your back? _What_ was I to you, huh? A flea? A tick? Something you could flick away like it was nothing, just an annoying gnat in your face? You've stepped on me over and over, squashing me like some bug that _disgusted_ you. So what is it, Odin? Why adopt the pauper and invite him into your home? Hmm?" His voice sounded ugly and raspy and everything Loki hated about himself. All the ugly parts of Loki Odinson, surfacing from their hiding places within him, bubbling up from somewhere deep and _dark_ below his hopes and dreams and love. And there were so many more than he realized- or _allowed_ himself to realize, rather. "**_Tell me!_**" His voice hurt deep in his chest when it came out, strangled by the tears turning his eyes glassy and clogging his throat with all the tiny pieces of his heart.

Odin smirked. "So desperate to know, hmm?" You motherfucking bas- "You are the son of Laufey Laufeyson. The senator from Ohio." Loki's brow furrowed in that terrible kind of confusion that makes your heart twist on itself and a hot brick appear, heavy and gloomy, in your stomach. "He had an affair with a street-whore. You, _you_ are the bastard son he didn't want." Odin's voice was smug, his eye gleaming with what seemed like sordid satisfaction. "He _begged_ me to take you, knowing Frigga wanted another child. Your biological mother was in his hometown in Norway. You were a peace offering." Loki felt his lungs collapse in on themselves, along with his entire world. Again. How many times would he have to see through the cracks in his soul that the truth had been there all along?Of course. Of course he was just something cast-aside, just a discarded conception in a dark, smoky room, just a piece of another's corruption and vile lust, another sign of everything _wrong_ in the world. _That's_ what Loki was. _That's_ why he was so hated. Because he was, through-and-through, the wrong and the sin in this world.

Fun (not really _fun_, anymore, is it?) Fact #11: Loki has never seen the sunshine and purity in the world that his brother so vehemently places his faith in. Loki sees the bad, the ugly, the sordid, the squalor of humanity. He wants to change that, but he knows, inherently, that it is something that cannot be washed away. It is not something he can defeat. Not even in himself.

_"You are the bastard son he didn't want."_ The words rang through his head like the bells of Notre Dame. Was there _anyone_ who wanted Loki? _Didn't want, bastard son, didn't, bastard, want, didn't, didn't want, son, want, bastard son, didn't want. **Bastard son he didn't want**._ Tears were falling again. "So you took me and proceeded to hate me because I am the son of your greatest enemy." His voice was dull. He laughed.

Fun Fact #12: It is _never_ a good sign when Loki laughs during a confrontation. More like a bad omen that is trying to warn you to get your ass well _outta_ Dodge because Loki's on the verge of a mental breakdown. Which, really, at this point, Loki's fucking _always_ on the teetering edge of sanity. God only knows when he'll finally take the plunge.

"I'm a monster to you, just the monster people tell their children about at night? _I_, am the monster!" He laughed again, tears streaming freely because he just didn't give enough of a fuck anymore to stop them. "You _win_! You win, Odin. _I'm_ the monster, not you. You get to be great and mighty and beloved and respected. _You win_." He shrugged, feeling snotty and miserable and defiled and ruined. All his life, and this was the reason why he never fit. Because he wasn't a pretty golden prince like Thor, he was just a dirty, cold, misfit pauper. Could his poor heart sink any further?

Yes, oh yes, it certainly could.

Odin smirked. "Of _course_, I win. I'm not a dirty street dog, born of a whore and spawned from a lecherous senator." Oops. Bad idea.

Loki's head snapped up, and fire coursed through his veins again. _He's_ the monster? Okay. If he's got the guilt, he's gonna fucking _enjoy_ the sin. "Oh, _fuck_ _you_. Fuck you for all those years you treated me like the _shit_ on your shoes. I'm not some weak little baby, anymore. And you can't _stand_ the idea of me becoming just as great as your golden boy. You can't have me rising to being something and making something of myself, because despite all odds I'm _just_ as good and _just_ as smart as he _ever_ will be." He snarled, prowling towards Odin and growling like a rabid wolf. Is it a full moon, cause Loki's morphing into something with iron jaws and rip-your-windpipe-out fangs and veins full of _ice_ and damning bloodlust.

"You will _never_ be what Thor is! You're _nothing_, Loki Laufeyson. You're a _bastard_ child, a dirty homeless wretch, you're _worthless_." Odin spat, fisting his collar in his big, oversized hand. "And you'll never be nothing but a _toy_ to be slapped around and used like old Thanos taught you. Remember _that_, Loki? That's _all_ you're good for." He threw him back, making him stumble into a wall.

Loki sprang forward, getting a heavy hand across his chest- courtesy of Thor- to keep him from strangling Odin. Oh, he was losing it but all he could see was red, _red_, _**red**_, warning, _warning_, _**warning**_. Alarms were going off in his head because something hot like magma had spilled in his brain, and he was filled with rage and hurt and memories of two years ago and sitting in the hospital, and remember how bad his ribs hurt and how badly he wanted to cry and cry and cry? Two years ago when he had been broken down and defeated and used and abused. And damn it, he didn't want to ever feel that way again but here he is two years later and all those memories should be so _distant_ but they aren't because Odin shoved them right back in his face. And Odin reminded him how worthless and disgusting and small he had felt and here he was feeling it again thanks to a senator with a heavy hand and a nonexistent soul. And he remembered the cruel smirk and the glinting eyes and the damning words that poured from those ruthless lips those years ago. It hurt, down to his _core_. Another scar of the many his heart had been branded by. Had _anyone_ left him in as good of condition as they found him? Or was there always a scuff mark or a bleeding gash or a festering bruise left behind to remind him of their impact on his pitifully fragile psyche? He couldn't take it, Loki wasn't _this_ strong. He couldn't do it.

"That's all I'm good for because of _you_, Odin. Is that what you wanted! Well, here you go! I'm nothing, I'm useless, I'm a _monster_. I'm your finest creation, Odin." He laughed, his voice raspy and growling like a fucking lion. He was on fire. "I am your magnum opus, old man. You _made_ me, you crafted me from the _dirtiest_ material you could find and made me into something _despicable_ and _useless_. I am everything nasty and terrible in this world, a fucking _blemish_ on your beautiful little record, huh? A _Frankenstein_, made from the skeletons in your closet. And don't you ever doubt I will _haunt_ _you_ till the day you die." He was in Odin's face, shoving Thor out of the way. And god damn it, his voice was shaking and angry and broken. But he _wouldn't_ back down, not this time.

"Loki, _stop_! This is madness!" Thor cried, breaking between them. Oh, _bad_ idea. Just another button pushed that sends Loki on a pained rampage. And Stark is tugging on his sleeve, but Loki doesn't care because this isn't _about_ his best-friend-lover-confidante-guardian-angel. This is about Loki and his shit-fucked family.

"Is it, Thor?_ Is it_? **_Is it_**?" He glared at the man holding him away, and um. _No_. It's _not_ okay that Thor's touching him because Loki is currently a trip-wire. Push him, and you might just get blown to smithereens when he fucking detonates. "Get your filthy hands _off_ me." His voice was about as low as the seventh circle of hell- although, from what he could see, he was _in_ the seventh circle of hell.

"Loki, I'm your brother! Why are you doing this? Why do you hate us all so much?" And Loki could practically feel his brain melting and his heart was pounding miserably and he was in agony. It was too much, _too much_, **_too much_**. His nerves were _raw_. His heart was _broken._ The next to go was his mind. Or maybe it was long, _long_ gone by now. Maybe it had taken the first train to the coast because Loki and his fucked life was just too much for any amount of sanity to remain.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to rip his hair out because shouldn't Thor know this? Wasn't it _obvious_?

**_Loki hurts_**, Thor, you fucking _ignoramus_. Where have you _been_ the past nineteen years? "Because of you! And him! And Thanos! And everything that keeps trampling me down, _down_, _**down** _into the dirt! Because _you_ abandoned me when I needed you most! Weren't you there? Weren't you listening when I cried on your shoulder and begged for someone, _anyone_, to tell me why I was so _wrong_? Why I was so _out_-of-place? You knew the _answer_!" He felt Thor grip his shoulders tightly, blue eyes blazing like a flame igniting.

And yes, this is what torments Loki about Thor. It isn't so much how he sided with his father or let Odin believe the lies he conjured in his head about what a pain in the ass Loki was- mostly because, well, he could _be_ a pain in the ass, let's be honest here- it wasn't that he let Loki take the blame and consequences for his sins, _no_. It was how he sat there idly by and watched Loki fall into this _wreck_ he currently was, all because he didn't belong, he wasn't right, he wasn't _just_ _like_ _Thor_. And he _knew_, the whole time, that Loki felt so lost and despised simply because he _WAS_ wrong, he was despised, he was lost. And no matter how many times Thor insisted that they _are_ brothers, and that Loki _is_ part of his family, Loki will always know just how incredibly _wrong_ he was. And it will tear him apart until the end of time, but the truth didn't _care_ about its effect, there's no concern over the consequences it's weight will have on the bearer's shoulders. No, truth is indifferent, unflinching, obdurate. It was like the weight of the nine realms on Loki's frail, slender shoulders. A cross he couldn't bear, a pressure he couldn't withstand.

"I hate you." Loki whimpered.

And _that_ was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Thor's fist snapped into Loki's nose, sending him wheeling backwards. His skull felt like it was _crushed_ by Thor's massive fist. He could feel the imprint of each iron knuckle on his face, seared into his memory by exploding _agony_. Blood was pouring in a warm, carmine fountain. _Ow_. That hurt so much he should be sent to the _morgue_. Surely his skull had split from the incredible force of Thor's punch? Surely Loki couldn't withstand another crushing force bearing down on his body, mind, soul? When his hearing came back on- bringing him back to the land of the _living_ quite effectively- he heard too many people yelling at far too loud a decibel. But he doesn't care. Wanna know why?

Because there isn't a _soul_ in that room but him and Thor. Him and his brother. Him and what felt like Judas Iscariot. Him and the man he had adored for nineteen years with every small, insignificant cell of his body. That man that had just torn his heart out with a fist made of hatred and pent-up confusion and desperation and _years_ of being so screwed over and fucked up by a life neither of them had _chosen_. This wasn't their doing, they were the mere children of _Circumstance_ and _Fate_. They had not taken this road, they had been dragged down it blind-folded and groping for _something_ to hold onto as they slipped and stumbled and ignorantly traipsed down a slippery slope.

He let out a jungle-king growl and tackled Thor- because even though he's featherlight and really fucking lanky, all Loki had in a fight was his minuscule weight- to the floor. About precisely that moment, Thor got the upper hand. How much ya wanna bet Thor doesn't know what '_clemency_' means? And Loki's taken enough beatings to withstand the first few punches splendidly- in other words, growling and snarling like a god damn street mutt- until that kill-shot. That one thing that could make Loki a crying, whimpering, begging mess. One big fist slammed like a _car_ _wreck_ into Loki's ribcage. A yelp broke from his mouth like something reached inside him and tore it straight from his lungs. He sounded like a wounded animal- and felt like one too- hunted, a shot through the forest, searing pain through his ribs. It's all very much like the day he broke those ribs two years ago. It all takes him back to that moment.

_"Thanos! Calm down, please!" Loki couldn't take a fucking second to realize he was groveling, begging, crying like a child. He didn't really care what he looked like, with blood running down his face from that cut above his eyebrow. When Thanos' fist crashed into his face the first time, the ring on his middle finger had ripped a gash in his forehead. The ring that he had wanted to give Loki mere moments ago- which had started this whole fucking...predicament._

_"Oh, I'm perfectly calm, Loki." He stood over Loki, looking down his aquiline nose at the boy sprawled on the floor. A shiver ran up Loki's rather shaken body. How was this even happening? Hadn't he been through this enough? A thin hand that had once been used to touch him with love, yanked him up to his feet. It brushed away his bloody hair and wiped away the tears. "Don't cry. It makes you look so _unattractive_." The voice was flat and hard. Loki trembled._

_If Loki had learned one thing while living with Odin Odinson for the past seventeen years of his life, it was that abusers don't just abuse with fists, they abuse with words. Loki knew it from the mirror, where he saw xylophone ribs and ivory-key knuckles and sharp-as-a-knife hip bones staring back at him bleakly. It was miserable, not eating for days. Just for Thanos, just because of that comment when they first met that Loki was 'a bit pudgy'. Now, look at him. When was the last time he ate an actual meal? When he did more than pick at his food for fear he might add on another pound? When had he looked at himself and seen something he wasn't disgusted by?_

_"I'm s-sorry." He stuttered, falling over his words because his tongue was tripping in fear. He couldn't think straight, he couldn't see straight, he couldn't do anything because he was paralyzed. Unable. Unable to fight back or call for help or just get up and walk the fuck out like he should've done months ago. The first time Thanos hurt him. But it hadn't been a fist that kept him from walking straight for days._

_"Have you reconsidered?" The commination in Thanos' voice made it very clear exactly what would happen should Loki continue to say 'no.' But what else could he say? He didn't want to marry Thanos! He didn't even want to date the man, but he was too petrified to break up with him. He wouldn't tie himself to this guy if he was the last man on planet fucking Earth. And Loki told him precisely that, because he refused to be afraid any longer, even if it got him put in the hospital. Thanos' lips pulled back in something feral and a little insane. Loki shivered. "You're going to be sorry for that, baby." And the endearment was about as frozen as the southern pole and seeped through Loki's brain insidiously, creeping into his veins like pure ice. He was shivering, goosebumps running across his wintry pale skin._

_Then it all came crashing down like the fist in his face, snapping his head back on its axis and throwing him backwards without warning. His back smacked against the wall when someone shoved him into the hard surface, grinding his shoulder blades into the wall relentlessly. He cringed, opening his eyes to look into smoldering eyes that made him want to puke. "This doesn't change anything." He whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking. Oh god, please let this be over quick. Loki was no stranger to pain, but he was pretty sure his tolerance had only dwindled with exposure._

_But it wasn't fast. It was long, a short eternity, before the beating was over. Before the pain was just a throbbing presence in every muscle in his body. The tears were still running down his face when Thanos left, slamming the door behind him. Because the pain...the pain was excruciating, coming from every nook and cranny in his body and centralizing in his ribs- which sat at an awkward, unnatural angle. Something was broken, something that wasn't his heart- although that was pretty demolished too. The world was a little spinny, the lights and colors dancing a tango in his screwed vision. Pain does funny things like that. _

_"Thor? I need you to come take me to the hospital. I'm at Thanos's." He rasped into his cellphone, unable to move an inch without pain slamming his body like a steamroller. His hips ached, his hands shaking when he cinched his belt again. Best if Thor didn't know the specifics. _

_"What happened? Where's Thanos?" Thor sounded naive, but Loki didn't care because he could actually hear the blessed sound of Thor's car starting up._

_"Just...just get here, soon. Okay?" Then he snapped the phone closed and tried to stop breathing, because it just hurt too bad._

Thor froze, and Loki, hurt and blinded by a painful haze that had taken over his sight, lashed out in the moment of stillness. His hand- a loose fist because, _damn_, was it hard to do anything with that much pain ricocheting through oneself- hit a really, _really_ hard bone. Loki was pretty sure it hurt him as much as Thor, but it did get the man off him and he was standing and looking around and he couldn't hear or see anything through the white-hot fire taking over his body. Whoa, is it _hard_ to breathe. Loki's world was spinning.

Then someone slammed him into the wall and started wailing on him and he really couldn't think to do anything more than sob and try to fight back. But it was a weak assault from him, even by his standards. And whoever was beating on him was not a big, goopy blond who would rip out his heart and hand it to Loki on a silver platter. _No_, this person was so much _bigger_ and so much more _vicious_ and he wasn't even _listening_ to Loki's choked pleas. Where was Anthony? Why wasn't anyone saving him?

Had the world _finally_ given up on him?

* * *

Tony was fucking going crazy! Some big ass dude was holding him back and Odin was beating the ever-loving _fuck_ out of his boy, who's crying and whimpering something completely unintelligible and sinking down to the ground like the Universe is bearing down on him with all the weight of the world on his shaking shoulders. And those gut-wrenching sobs feel like they're tearing Tony's insides apart, shredding his _soul_ because he can't bare what he's witnessing. Struggling and squirming and trying to stomp feet into the floor just to get free and get to his boy. _His_ Loki. _His_.

Then there's Thor, hunched over on his knees, looking for all the world like someone yanked his batteries out. Just staring, _staring_, **_staring_**, blank and glassy-eyed and Tony wanted to kill them. Kill each and every one of them. A fucking massacre. He was pretty sure he could pull it off, because right now all the rage in his body is eating at him like a _parasite_. Because wasn't that what rage was? A parasite, killing you slowly by sucking away the life inside you, tedious and insidious. But it was also _fuel_, feeding the fire of whatever bloodlust was poisoning you then. Like a drug, like a poison, like _cocaine_ and _cyanide_.

Tony, fed up with being held away from his -ahem, _lover_- best friend, snaps his head back against the man behind him, getting a stuttering pain in his head and a groan and loosened arms. Then he's moving, throwing Odin off Loki and falling to his knees in front of the boy and letting Loki's limp body fall forward into his arms. He's _out_. I mean, out like a god damn light.

"Loki? Lo-Lo? Wake up, darling." He murmured, lightly cupping Loki's face in his hands and cringing at the blood that's running from his nose and the cut on his mouth from Odin's ring- a similar cut to the ones he's gotten from Howard's own taste in jewelry- which makes him look halfway dead. And god damn, Tony's _scared_ shitless. Behind him, he can hear Thor calling an ambulance. Tony realized that this was the second time Loki's been to the hospital since they've gotten close and that kind of makes Tony feel like a _curse_ because maybe it's his fault that everything got so bad with Loki and his dad? I mean, Odin was _definitely_ not into the whole homosexual thing, no one could be friends with Howard without that one very firm requirement.

So, Tony cradled Loki _protectively_, not even glancing at Odin or Thor, and feeling the odd angle of Loki's sharp, protruding ribs. It made him want to _puke_, feeling the way his best friend had been broken like a little porcelain doll. Like a thrown away toy. Like a dog on the wrong side of the curb. He was beaten, bruised, run-over and discarded. It made Tony _furious_, that someone could do that. That someone could hurt someone so perfect and innocent and beautiful. But the world was unfair like that, unjust, uncaring.

He heard the ambulance. He heard the EMTs come running up the stairs. He heard them burst into the room. Watched them take his angel, strap him to a gurney, run him out of the room with him trailing behind. Thor and Odin stayed where they were. Tony's heart shattering all over the place because this was a little bit like deja vu. And Howard not coming to the hospital when Tony tried to end it all and take himself out of this fragmented, shattered picture. And now it was a _longing_ that was starting again in his chest, to escape, to run away, to let go of the breathe in his lungs and the blood in his veins. It would be so _easy_.

Commitment was scary. _Terrifying_. Not something he would _ever_ admit, even to himself. But here and now, with Loki bleeding and broken, feeling guilt galore, wanting so much to douse himself in cold water and wake up from this terrible _nightmare_- Tony was ready to knock back too many pills and a bottle of the best whiskey his dad owned. But he wouldn't-_couldn't_- because there was Loki, sweet, precious, _lonely_ Loki. Loki the orphan. Loki the spitfire. Loki the silvertongue. Loki the unhinged. Loki the loner. Loki who _needed_ him, no matter how much they _refused_ to admit it. Loki who wanted Tony around, although he would never say as much in words. Tony had to read it in glistening green eyes and smirking pink lips and blushing pallid cheeks.

At the ambulance, he moves to get in, but someone stops him. "Are you family?" The man asked, looking at him with fucking solemnity that made Tony want to puke, _again_.

And just as he was about to lie- a rather flourishing talent of his- another voice spoke. "_Yes_, let him go." Thor. "I'll follow in my car, Tony." His blue eyes are more sober and sorrowful than Tony had ever seen them. He nodded, deciding against bitching the man out just then.

But it _would_ come.

If the guilt didn't eat them both alive first.

* * *

Tony sipped his coffee thoughtlessly, not even tasting the bitter liquid sliding across his tongue and down his throat. His entire being was focused on one skinny, Batman-sock enveloped foot that stuck out from beneath hospital-white sheets. Loki had been tossing and turning all night, his nose cased in white, his ribs wrapped in a tight bandage. The pained groans coming from his mouth had made Tony go _nuts_, pacing back and forth and back and forth so many times Thor almost screamed at him to sit down. But hey, they were both a little on edge.

_"I mean, what the _fuck_ were you thinking?" He yelled, reaming into the big man that towered over him timidly. "Odin could've _killed_ him, Thor. I was so scared." As demure and solemn as he sounded, he really wanted to kill that eye-patched motherfucker. Bloodlust started to boil in his blood again, seeping into every nook and cranny of his body and soul and mind. These emotions seemed to _consume_, **consume**, _**consume**_**.** _

_"I _know_, Tony." The bigger teenager hung his head. "I just don't know what to do or who to believe anymore. Loki has been like this for _years_. And he and father have never seen eye-to-eye." He frowned, slumping down in his chair like a defeated man. It was almost pitiful. But, Tony clenched his jaw against the pity. Thor _didn't_ deserve it. Loki _did_._

_But something inside him asked, '_What if he's just as much the victim as Loki?_'. I mean, it was plausible, and even imaginable, that all of this hurt Thor _too_. If he really loved his brother as much as he claimed to..._

_"Beating the fear of god into him isn't the way to go, I assure you, Thor." He sighed, running a hand through his tangled, unruly curls. "He's never going to trust you again." And that was the truth, if Tony had ever heard it. Loki would probably never look at Thor with kindness again, and who could blame him? Considering how much Tony wanted to strangle Thor...well, 'he who is without sin, cast the first stone.' _

_Big, teary blue eyes looked up at him again, bottom lip quivering, big dog baying his sorrow as loud as it would ever get. Thor was a soldier, _hard_ on the inside despite how bright and sunny and sweet he seemed. "This was the last thing I wanted. He's been in and out of the hospital so much, Tony. Especially the last two years. Ever since Thanos..." He shook his head. "I wasn't there for him _then_, either. I've broken my promise to protect him and shield him from all who wanted to hurt him." A tear trickled down his cheek, lodging itself in the crease of his frowning mouth. Tony followed it's winding track across his tan skin. _

Thanos_. He needed to ask Loki about that. _Not_ Thor. Loki would kill them both if he found out they had been talking about a previous relationship behind his back. Nope. No. Gotta _wait_. He was beginning to believe the whole curiosity killed the cat bit._

"Anthony?" It was a bit gurgled and cracked, but Loki's voice jolted him out of his daydream like an electric shock to his spinal cord. "_Water_." The pale-skinned teenager croaked. Not for the first time, Tony realized he looked like a _ghost_ with his pale skin and dark-rimmed green eyes under these brash, unkind lights.

Tony jumped to grab some cold water off the bedside table, helping Loki sit up just enough so he didn't choke when swallowing. The moan when he moved yanked a stabbing pain into Tony's chest, where the arc reactor thrummed patiently just waiting for Tony to get the balls to reveal it to his lover/best friend/what-the-fuck-ever Loki was. Jesus, they were _terrible_ with commitment. Were normal humans this reluctant to bind themselves to another human being they loved and cared about and would do pretty much anything for? Because, really, Tony was beginning to think it was a situation unique to _them_, and them _only_. Really, everyone else seemed _overjoyed_ to be in a committed relationship where everything was laid out on the table and there were special terms and really, it was like a fucking _business_ _contract_ to Tony. Something his _dad_ would promote. Not that his dad really promoted _anything_ when it came to Tony except building world-renowned explosives and engines no one else could dream up and artificially intelligent robots. Yeah, he and his dad were real winners like that. If it wasn't metal or wired to blow up a few million innocent humans, the elder Stark deemed Tony _bound_ to fuck up.

Loki laid back against the pillows with another moan. His long, spidery fingers- knuckles bruised and cut and swollen from the fight yesterday morning- flew to rest against his ribcage. Tony remembered the weird angle they cut when he was cradling the younger boy against his chest, sitting on the floor, feeling _helpless_ and staring at a very ensanguined Loki. Apparently, the younger boy saw the emotion on his face, because his free hand- the one _not_ pressed against his ribs in a rather obvious expression of _pain _(which, if we're being honest, hurts Tony just a bit more than it hurts Loki)- slipped into Tony's.

"I'm alright." He smiled shakily, reassuring the ink-haired boy looking him over with _concerned_ green eyes.

"Kiss me." Loki murmured, pulling him closer, up onto the bed with him.

And this is just a testament to how _well_ Loki knows Tony. Because he knows that Tony needs that _contact_, that skin on skin, that pressure against his lips, that taste of tea and mint, to remind him that Loki's _okay_, he's here, he's alive. He's not going _anywhere_. That he needs Tony to be _strong_ for a little while, because he can't, because he needs someone on his side that wont betray him and hurt him and fuck him over. That he needs Tony's fingers between his, that he needs that presence to be a _promise_, not a fleeting touch. That he needs Tony to be _committed_, if only in the brown of his eyes and the touch of his fingers. Loki needs someone he can _depend_ on.

Tony decided he's just the man for the job.

Their lips met and Tony was pulled into the world of Loki Odinson. Sweet mint, cool winter, dark evergreen. Cool skin against his heat, coal black against muddy brown, emerald against chocolate, pink against chapped red. Long black eyelashes whispered against Tony's cheek, and a barely pointed nose brushing his own nose lightly. The other boy was practically _putty_ in Tony's hands, which traced up Loki's elegant neck and around his sharp jawline and back across his skull and into a silky forest of black hair. Long fingers clutched the collar of his shirt, holding him close, and urging him even _closer_.

Well, Tony's not going to ignore that.

He pressed their mouths together more passionately, running his tongue across perfect, soft lips. Loki parted his lips, almost like a reflex, and Tony slid his tongue into his cool mouth, tasting mint and the lasting metallic tang of _blood_. The cracks between his teeth still held that tangy red substance within them, holding it hostage for the ransom of a toothbrush and toothpaste. But it was _unique_ to Loki, and as such, seemed like _heaven_ to Tony.

They pulled apart slowly, like just the taste of each other was _reassuring_ and the loss of it would be detrimental to their state of mind. And maybe it _was_, maybe it was like opening an old wound, to remember everything that happened, to remember why they were here, to be thrown back into this white-washed, brash environment where everything was out in the open and there were no shadows, no grey, just white, and light. Tony thought Loki was squinting a little, and wished he could turn off the lights that gleamed through the window of Loki's room. Or maybe it was the fact that Loki had a concussion and must have a terrible headache, and probably wanted to be doused in the pith of _hell_ if it would _block out the light_.

"I'm _sorry_." Again, it was Loki's voice that brought Tony's thoughts back to the real world. Adderall, Tony misses you very, _very_ much.

He frowned, feeling his dark eyebrows push down over his eyes deeply. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, darling." Scarred fingertips caressed Loki's cheek _tenderly_. Soft skin brushed against the calloused skin of his fingers, feeling like satin under his sandpaper skin. "I was actually going to apologize to _you_, for not getting him away from you sooner." Tony was trembling, shaking, guilty. That moment he had seemed suspended in time, incapable of getting to Loki while someone broke him down piece-by-piece and he was useless, failing him yet again.

Fail.

Fail.

Fail.

Fail.

Fail.

Howard was _right_. If it wasn't wired to kill innocents or made of metal...Tony was _bound_ to fuck it up.

* * *

Loki woke up the next day to see Stark with his head on the bed, laying on crossed arms, curls tumbling over his forehead and into his eyes, sleeping. A small smile toyed with his lips, because damn, it was _good_ to wake up to someone by his side, keeping him safe, watching over him- even if he was asleep, because Loki knew even _angels_ needed their sleep. And he really _believed_ Stark was a bit of an angel, even if he _had_ fallen from heaven's straits. Because if he hadn't fallen, then Loki wouldn't get to hold him and love him and see his most flawed moments when he was _almost_ human.

He nudged the sleeping boy gently. A brown eye cracked open blearily, settling on him and putting a smile on Stark's half-asleep expression. "Come here." He curled his fingers around Stark's collar, tugging the tiny teenager up onto the bed beside him. He slid to the side, feeling Anthony curl up on the sheets between them, stained fingertips running along the bandages on his ribs. The feeling ran a _chill_ up his spine- loving gentleness contrasting with hateful brutality.

And this was where he realized he felt perfectly _safe_. Out of harm's way. Shielded from all the bad things that made him hiss like a pissed cat. Here, all was perfect and happy and he was warm and everything was inherently _Stark_. Everything was cinnamon and motor oil and old smoke and late nights and scotch. Everything had meteors and spider-web constellations and Adderall and cigarettes. Skin was calloused and hair was coarse and everything was a little scarred and there was always a _storm_ brewing underneath the happy strain of everything. Because that happiness was _fabricated_ by prescription drugs and alcohol and self-denial and lies. Those smiles were a _masquerade_. The world was a stage and Stark was playing in the show of a lifetime.

Loki wanted to _change_ that, to turn those smiles into something _real_.

* * *

Tony woke up slowly, a soft breathing against his neck making a smile spread across his face before he even opened his eyes. A hand was draped across his waist, a heat pressed against his side. Loki's face was nuzzled up beneath his jaw, a nose pressed gently against his neck and a chin tucked against his shoulder. The boy stirred, rubbing his face against Tony's hot skin before settling again with a soft whine.

Almost sad to be waking up, Tony opened his eyes, squinting at the bright hospital lights. _How_ had they slept through this fuckery? He sighed, rubbing his face- being careful not to jostle the sleeping boy that was practically _draped_ across him. He ran a hand along the arm draped across him, scarred skin against scarred skin. Burns across burns, allowing the memory of that day when Loki had been on fire, screaming bloody hell in _agony_...how Tony had felt, the bile that rose in his throat at the sight of someone he loved being so hurt.

A throat cleared, making him jolt. Loki woke with a start. "What?" He moaned, lifting his head and blinking owlishly. But Tony didn't see him.

His eyes were focused on his dad's searing brown eyes. "Hello, son. How was Afghanistan?" Tony gulped, listening to Loki growl and mutter something unintelligible under his breath. "I saw the footage of you returning home yesterday." _Yesterday_? Um, dude, Tony got back a _month_ ago. Oh, and no, _no_, Howard, Tony's not damaged at _all_ from being blown up and carted to Afghanistan with a car battery strapped to his chest. Nah. He's _fine_. Perfectly fine. No need for his own _father_ to be worried, _none at all_. But really, had Tony expected anything but this? No. No, he hadn't because Howard had never really cared whether he lived or died.

"Did you really?" He murmured, his eyes now focused on the grumbling being re-situating himself beside him. He grunted when a sharp him knocked against him- a little _vindictively_, if he knew _anything_ about Loki. A smile tried to push the corners of his mouth up.

"Yes. I saw you and..._him_." Howard's head inclined towards Loki, who was still muttering spitefully- which stopped when he realized he was being talked about. Green eyes pierced Tony's brown when they looked at each other. _Whoops_. And here he thought he'd gotten a get-out-of-jail-free card with that one.

"That was _my_ fault." Loki's chest-deep growl made him physically relax. "I was _happy_ to see him." He smirked and shrugged a shoulder lazily.

And _no_, Loki, it's _not okay_ to take the blame for Tony.

"That's a _lie_. I kissed _him_." He sat up, ignoring Loki's growl of protest. He knew he was Loki's personal heater. But right now, he needed to face Howard. Cuddling- yes, something he actually _wants_ to do, cuddling isn't a bad word anymore- could come after. "And if you don't like it, it's _your_ fucking problem, not mine." He followed in Loki's footsteps, smirking and shrugging as if it meant _nothing_ in the world to him to be standing up to this asshole. But we all know that this takes some extraordinary amount of courage. _Extraordinary_.

Loki's fingers traced patterns on his back, because Loki was still laying down, probably staring up at the place between his shoulder-blades. He could feel the _heat_ of those green irises- because Tony's _totally_ not hot enough already. "It was a good kiss. You're a good kisser." Loki murmured sleepily, tracing figure-eights on his backbone.

He smirked. Loki wouldn't have said that for the world if he wasn't a defiant little fucker who liked to mess with people. "He's a _boy_." Howard's voice sounded strained. Tony looked up to see his father's face was beet red. It was all he could do to keep himself from cackling like the half-_demon_ he was.

Loki huffed. "Of course I'm a _boy_, you _moron_. How long did it take you to figure _that_ out?" Whoop. Loki's back, folks, sarcastic and condescending as _ever_.

Howard's jaw clenched. "My _son_ is _straight_." He snarled, and Loki was right beside him, his legs placed dangerously across Tony's.

"Oh, _now_ I'm your son?" Tony laughed. "My, how things change when one gets abducted." He placed a hand over his heart, feeling the harsh metal of the arc reactor thrum beneath his palm. "Maybe I should've gone to Afghanistan _sooner_, hmm?" He spat. This was _rich_. Really fucking rich. He had a god damn _battery_ keeping him running, and his dad was pissed because, oh, he's _gay_ for Loki. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

But it _was_ a big deal to Howard, Tony could see it written across his face as plain as day. The man was _fuming_. An maybe just a _little_ bit close to having a coronary. "Tony, this isn't _acceptable_." His voice was shaking. Rage.

But, oh, what a tangled web we weave.

"Acceptable? Acceptable?" Tony's voice was kind of-sort of on the edge of hysterics. Let it never be said that the Stark men don't know how to throw some kind of diva-bitch hissy fit. "Is it _acceptable_ to tell your kid that he killed his mother? Or that you didn't even want him? Is _that_ acceptable, Howie?" He spat, his fingers clenching in tight, white-hot anger.

"Anthony..." Loki's voice was soft, pretty, like an angel. But Tony didn't respond to him, his eyes blazing into Howard's.

"Yes! Because it's _true_!" The man stood. "You killed my Maria. You took away the _best_ thing I ever had. _You_. You _parasitic_ _mistake_." The venom in Howard Stark's voice broke Tony into a million pieces. But, he just nodded.

"Yeah, they say I'm _just_ like my _dad_."

* * *

A/N:** I shall spare you the usual half-a-novel size author's note to say, LOVE YOU ALL. Oh, and I wanted to do a shout-out thingie. **

**Arianissa- Omg. I love you. And yes, I shall help you with hunting down Odin. But your reviews always bring a smile to my face. Thank you so much :)**

**The Walking Daryl- No worries, there is more. Knowing me and my love for characters, this fic may never end. Thank you so much :)**

**DecadentGrrrl- I'm kind of an emotional fucker like that. So, my stuff is like *EMOTIONSSSSS*. Thank you for reviewing and reading! ;)**

**mrschultz- LOL. Me and angst is a love affair that has been going on for some time. Me and fluff...welllllll, we're in the awkward new stage and it might take me some time to be even half as good at it as I am at angst. I hope Loki's last relationship came out well, it was terrifying me to write. AH. Thank you for reviewing ;)**

**cara-tanaka- Yeah. Odin needs to be shot. Now. But alas, I'm afraid the resilient motherfucker sticks around for some time. Lol. Thanks for reviewing :)**

**Generation-Loki - Gah. My author's note in the last chapter was a tad cruel xD. But, hey, gotta keep everyone interested somehow ;). Thank you for reviewing and reading! :)**

**Now, I know these lovely folks aren't the only ones who've read and reviewed. But, they were the ones for my last chapter and I felt I had been remarkably ungrateful-seeming for someone who really seriously cherishes their reviewers/viewers/readers. I love you all so incredibly much, and this fic has gotten so much more attention than I ever imagined it would. Thank you ALL. Whether you just read, or review and read, you seriously make me want to write and give me inspiration. THANK YOU. You all make my days a bit brighter. **

**Now, the next chapter. Hmm. I still haven't revealed the arc reactor have I. And god knows, Tony's being a bit of a chicken. Tsk tsk.**

**Pweeese review? Pweeze?**

**xoxox Have a great weekend, all you beautiful people.**


	15. Chapter 15- Fix You

A/N: **The title of this chapter is Fix You by Coldplay (It's a two part chapter, too). Go listen to it. The most beautiful song ever. And it's like the fucking gist of this chapter. I've never been so in love. Also, Stay by Rihanna feat. Mikey Ekko. It is everything Loki and Tony cannot say to each other. By the way, all of these songs I've mentioned throughout this fic are songs I think LOKI would listen to. Tony's sense of music is completely different- although he has his guilty pleasures ;).**

**Btw, I kind of apologize, because I have no clue how long it takes for injuries to heal, so I gave his ribs a month. If that's unrealistic...sue me. No, wait, don't. I'm broke already. xD**

**Oh, gosh. This is a real monster. A beast. A leviathan.**

**Warnings: Um, the usual should go into effect. Although there's really not a whole lot graphic. PTSD, if that can be a warning? Angst? Emotional distress all over the place. So. The usual._ (I will be going over this chapter and changing it, at some point. So. Be aware. This isn't my best or favorite chapter. But that's going to change eventually. And yes, it will be shorter.)_**

* * *

Loki sat on the edge of his bed and stared off into space, realizing how words wounded like electrical wires in water and how fists broke things more than just bones and skin. He realized with frenetic terror that he may have actually lost yet another piece of his irreparably torn soul. And Anthony wasn't there and the shower is running and he should be washing off all the pieces of grime and dried flecks of blood that lingered from those three days ago, but he _can't_ or maybe just _hasn't_ because it's all _right_ _there_ in front of him. Everything had stared back at him in that mirror and made him shut down like a dysfunctional computer because he saw the painted aftereffects of that day when everyone hailed down on him like bullets of silver-lined _hatred_ and _years_ of confusion.

And with misguided, badly-timed accuracy, he realized this was deja vu of two years ago when he looked in the mirror and saw not an innocent, half-heartedly happy teenager with a pretty face and pure heart; but instead saw a damaged, raped, victimized, and traumatized 17 year old with bruises and broken ribs and aching insides. And it was that day _all over again_, the realizations of demoralization and corrupted innocence were washing over him like a tsunami wave. And it didn't make sense, why someone so young and with so much ahead of them- if it hadn't been _ruined_ by the shattered sense of identity and abused quality of sanity- had to go through something like this _twice_. Once in the hands of a lover. And once at the hands of someone who was bequeathed by the Universe with the responsibility of _protecting_ and _loving_ him for their entire lives. He had _just_ gotten back that balance he had lost in the hurricane of brotherly, stifling protection and conversely affected therapy and one too many stern talks with his father. And now it was _gone_, like a whiff of perfume on the wind or a snowflake in above-freezing degrees and that sound of a howl that faded into the night like it had _never_ _existed_ or was just a figment of an overactive imagination. And Loki wanted to _scream_ because it was going to take him an _infinity_ just to get back to this point of maybe-almost equilibrium with himself and the rest of the world- even if he still would _hate_ them _both_ with equal vehemence.

Then the door slammed and Anthony was here and he could hear the young, wounded man talking to John Constantine and he remembered how _hurt_ Stark was by him and his family and his very own father. And he knew that they were two of a kind, not because they were _born_ that way or naturally natured alike, no. It was because Life had thrown them two similar curve-balls that had shoved them off course and out of personality and into a totally _contrary_ world that was _never_ supposed to exist. And they were both scarred, physically and mentally, by the people and circumstances that revolved and lived and breathed around them. He knew he needed that man like he needed a_ hole in his head_, but that didn't change the fact that they were _saving_ each other, that they were keeping each other _alive_. Somehow, they brought each other a whole new zenith of emotional turmoil, but it was a _cure_ not a curse. And Loki wanted nothing more than to hold onto Stark like he was his lifeline and Anthony was pulling him to safety. Because he _was_. Because, despite the scars on his arms and his heart, Anthony was slowly becoming a healing elixir that made it all a little irrelevant because he wasn't hurting all the time anymore. And sure, right now Loki's _wrecked_ beyond belief, and everything has a tint of doom in it, and nothing's gonna be bright and sunshiney for a while- but it's _okay_, it's okay because Stark's _right there_, ready to catch him when he falls. And if that young, emotionally deficient, shut-down, turned-off, powered-down man _wasn't_ there, Loki's pretty sure he would have done something at least mildly _lethal_.

And Loki would _never_ tell Stark this. Not if their lives depended on it- which, if we're being completely honest, they kind of _do_, today. Not if the sky was falling and they had mere seconds to live before being crushed by a picture-perfect piece of blue daytime. Not if it was make-it or break-it time, time to give up all their secrets and be transparent. Because Loki _knew_ that they would _always_ have their secrets, even if those little treasured bits of personal promises were the words that each of them _wanted_ so desperately to hear fall from each other's lips. They would always be a bit opaque, because that's what made them so right and fitting as much as they were wrong and mismatched. Everything would be a tug-of-war battle between yes and no, right and wrong, left and right, meant-to-be and forced-together. And life would always be an uphill battle together because they were two unnaturally volatile forces that would rip each other apart as much as they would patch and stitch each other back together. And it would always be push down, only to pull each other up off the ground. But that was maybe what they _needed_- someone to _hurt_ them as they _healed_ them. And yeah, it was twisted and a little masochistic and _anything_ but practical, but at the same time, it was _all_ Loki wanted or desired- no matter how much it hurt. Because Loki's learned that love _hurts_, deep and recalcitrant and undeterred.

Loki gingerly climbed into the shower, relishing and cringing at the pain that the hot water pushed into his aching joints and burning muscles that have been beaten far past crumbling and pushed past submission into slavery. He leaned back against the wall, letting water run down his body fast and almost hotter than was tolerable. His thoughts spun and fell and resurfaced in his mind, playing back and forth, weaving amongst his demons and the shadows of memories wished to be forgotten but forever present. Thoughts of Anthony, thoughts of Odin, thoughts of Howard, thoughts of love and pain and betrayal and lies and half-truths and painful bluntness. He wondered if this all-consuming silence would _ever_ be accompanied by thoughts of happiness and fullness of life and smiles and laughter instead of this, this terrible mash-up of fucked emotions and whirling confusion and painful desperation? Because Loki wants so _desperately_ to be _happy_- even if that screwed little piece of his mind chirps that _no_, he _doesn't_, that he's always been miserable and that's his _comfort zone_ and if he loses it he won't be the _same_, that he'll be dull and intolerable and absolutely absurd. Because Loki doesn't know that it's _okay_ to be happy, that no one is going to blame him or persecute him for being okay and sane for once, that it's not going to change who he is to feel joy and splendor in a life that could be so full and fulfilling.

But it's okay. Tony's here to save the day.

Someone knocked on the door in a rapping torrent of beats that makes a small smile lift the cracked edges of Loki's lips. _Stark_. "_C'mon_, Lo-Lo, hurry up in there." The teenager whined through the door. "I _miss_ you, sweetie-pie." And Loki's pretty sure his dorm-mates are close to _gagging_ from all the sweet things Stark's been saying the past few days- hell, in a past life, Loki probably would've been too.

He finished scrubbing the past few days in the hospital and the last sweaty night in his own bed filled with nightmares of the all-too real past out of his hair and off his skin. Climbing out, he smelled like his usual frost-condensed, winter-tainted self and felt squeaky clean and almost halfway normal. But _really_, Loki never believed he would be normal again. Maybe it was doom or depression or that post-broken bone dark cloud that forever hovered above one's head that made him feel that way, or maybe it was the _truth_.

Or maybe, things would get better than when they were normal.

Fuck, was that even a _possibility_ for Loki and Anthony?

He was pretty sure _not_.

Especially not after last night.

_"Yeah, they say I'm just like my dad." Stark's voice had been sharp and high-pitched and so god damn injured by his father's words that Loki wanted to scream or cry or weep or _scalp_ Howard. And yeah, his own father was just as bad- not that he'd ever say as much to Anthony- but this was _different_. Because when he was hurting, it was all contained and he could kind of-sort of-not really ignore it. But here was someone- a living being who inhaled oxygen and exhaled carbon dioxide, just like he did- that he loved and cared for, and they were hurt. And they were trying so hard to be strong in the face of something they couldn't conquer because it kept beating them to the ground until they were too weak to stand up anymore. And Loki knew _exactly_ how that felt, and he had been right where Anthony was- like 49 hours ago, actually- and it made him hurt even more deeply and feel _everything_- including the fiery pain in his chest- so much more intensely._

_Howard smirked, smug like a cat with a rat tail hanging from it's mouth. "_No_. No, Anthony," And really, does he just _want_ to die? Because only Loki's allowed to call him that. And no, he's not a territorial bitch...at least not _all_ the time. "You're not even _close_ to being like me. You don't have the drive or the brains to be like me." He shook his head, and Loki snarled at him. "You'll never be anything. You're a _nobody_, kid." _

_Here, Loki had to stop for a moment to take a few deep, calming breaths. Because, quite honestly, if he didn't, he might snap Howard's neck. 1) Howard's a fucktard if he thinks Anthony will never be anything. 2) Um, the boy is world-renowned genius, you _moron_. 3) Loki's gonna shoot you in the _balls_ if you don't seriously stop fucking with your son. He's that serious, and god damn it, he has never actually been this protective over anyone but _Thor_. Yeah. You heard him. **Thor**. _

_But the younger- youngest, actually, and yep, it's nice not to be the only baby for once- Stark just nodded. "I know. But at least, I accept it. You never did. I mean, think about it, Howie. Who's gonna miss you when you're gone?" The boy was ignoring Loki- the big mass of seething, cast-adorned teenager beside him- and staring at his dad with pure venom. "Who's gonna go to your grave and put flowers down like I have with mom. You don't have _anyone_, man. I hate your guts. Stane just wants your money. All your whores wont give two shits once you're six feet under and not paying their rent anymore. So tell me, _who's gonna miss you_?" His voice was a cool, calm masquerade. Loki could feel him shivering. _

_By now, Loki isn't sure if he wants to laugh and cheer or cry and crumble into bits more. Laugh because finally, Stark is standing up for himself- to some degree. Cry because he believes he will be nobody special, and he doesn't realize that he's already all Loki can hold onto for sanity and support. He's all Loki has to wake up for, to give him some semblance of a future, to keep the razor blade out of his hands. And isn't that a _little_ sad? That in the whole, big, wide world, all Loki has is a genius addict with daddy issues and PTSD- if Loki knows anything about anything, he knows that kid is repressing some _serious_ issues from his kidnapping- and a broken heart beyond repair. And aren't they a fucking _pair_, the broken orphan and the lost heir to a kingdom. But somehow, it's _okay_. In their little portion of the world, it actually works- sorta, kinda, not really, but who's keeping track, really?- and somehow make's the sun shine just a tad brighter and the moon sing a slightly more romantic lullaby to lull them to sleep every night (that is, if Stark even sleeps anymore, although Loki's kinda doubting it). _

_Howard's a little more than red in the face now, but Anthony's just staring at him with these dull brown eyes that make Loki cringe. "You _will_ stay away from him. And if I ever see the two of you together again...well, you know what I'm capable of, _right_, Tony?" The big man cracked his knuckles ominously. Anthony went stiff as a board. _

_Then, everything went a little off course. Because, oh _hell no_, Anthony's grinning that charming, drugged, fucked smirk that makes Loki want to puke. "But, Howard...I'm Tony fuckin' Stark. And _nobody_ tells me what to do." The threat mingled with his charming sneer made Loki's guts churn, because everything was going sickeningly closer to the events that got his ribs re-broken and the hell if Howard doesn't look every bit like he's going to beat Anthony's pretty face into the hospital pristine tile floors. Not like Loki'd let him. He can be a fucking puma if the need arises- and at this point, god knows violence is becoming the _norm_ for them and it makes Loki a little nauseous to realize that. _

_"Stay away from him." And this time, those shit-brown eyes were on him, commanding him and ordering him around. Like anybody's the boss of Loki. -snort-_

_He merely shrugged, pulling off indifference and nonchalance like it was in his _soul_- and who's to say it's _not_, really? "I do what I want." And dear god, between he and Anthony, it's a wonder the world hasn't ripped into a chasm because two such immovable forces _cannot_ exist this close to each other without a natural disaster or the Armageddon or some sort of Hel descending on Earth because they're intolerable even to _themselves_ at this point. Although, together, they could potentially rule the earth and the nine realms, because their stubborn determination, excessive narcissism, and totally blown-out-of-proportion egos make them _invincible_ to all but each other__._

_"Oh really?" Howard raised a sarcastic eyebrow that made something like an angry bull charge full speed ahead in his stomach. Because he knew what that look meant, he knew that Howard knew every detail of his shit childhood, and that made him feel dirty and small and ashamed. _

_Fun Fact #12: Loki has felt shame all of three times before now in his life. 1) The first and last time he saw Thor cry, and the cause of those tears was him. 2) Thanos telling him he was chubby. 3) The first time he and Thor threw punches and the reason was- yep, you guessed it- _him_._

_Beside him, he felt Stark get up. Standing at about three inches shorter than Howard, Anthony was anything but intimidating, but he still managed to glare at his father with all the megawatt intensity of a thousand suns. "Get out. **Now**." _

_Howard grinned. "Alright son, defend your bitch for now. While you still _can_." Then he was gone. And Stark was looking at him with big, apologetic, chocolate eyes that melted his heart like a piece of ice in a furnace. And really, his entire body was engulfed in fire, because Stark had defended him and stood up for Loki even if he couldn't stand up for himself and was this the Universe's twisted way of saying _sorry_ for all the fucked up years they had taken abuse from virtually everyone without being able to fight back, that now they each stood up for each other and protected each other like they should've been doing for themselves forever?_

_'_Apology accepted._'_

* * *

A month later, and Loki's looking at the scar across his ribs and wondering how the hell he got _here_. How he ended up this broken human being with a xylophone ribcage and white-knuckle hands and daggers for hipbones, _again_. Because, right here, was where he was two years ago. Hadn't he left this behind? Hadn't Stark saved him? Hadn't life been better the past two months Anthony had been back? Was everything in vain? Why try to be happy when you're a roiling shipwreck sinking to the bottom of the Mariana Trench of misery and despair? Because really, Loki hadn't been _happy_ in a _long_ time, and he was pretty fucking sure he _never_ would be again. Because, people like Loki didn't get to be happy. They just didn't. The last time he was happy, he was sitting on Thor's lap in a car full of people singing Britney Spear's _Womanizer_ at the top of his lungs with Thor's deep baritone right in his ear. And yeah, his cousins had been there and the whole fucking family piled into one suddenly _small_ Hummer, but it had been fun and they had been close and it was the last time he had let his brother hug him...like, _really_ hug him. One of those big, crushing, sweeping him off his feet until he was yelling and they were spinning around and laughing and just being fucking kids kind of hug.

And after that, Loki became kind of shut off and cut off and became frozen to everyone and everything and his emotions didn't _exist_ anymore because he was so cold and bitter it was almost mind-warping how acerbic and hostile he could be. For years, he spurned everyone and everything in a half-hearted attempt to salvage some last strand of sanity and happiness. It was like he was locking up that little shattered piece of happiness up in a tower until he was satisfied that it would be safe from all the world's vile attacks on it. That, _finally_, it might find some way to thrive now, now that he had gotten _far_ from the giants of despair and loneliness and abandonement and insignificance. And can we just take a moment to realize how _horrendous_ Loki's adolescence was and how it's left it's mark on him so _deeply_, he won't ever be able to forget it and that thought in and of itself is so massively _depressing_ he's considering looking for something sharp to cut the thought out of his body with.

That's always been why, _why_, **_why_** he reached for self-harm when the world was literally falling around his ankles. Because with that little blade, he might be able to cut away his demons, he might be able to make them bleed enough to die or at least go into shock or a coma or something. There were things inside Loki that he _needed_ to kill. There were words and thoughts and bitter feelings he _needed_ to die inside of him. They were the monsters that presented themselves every time he looked in the mirror and considered himself too fat or too ugly or saw frizzy hair and an orphan that never found a home or a place to truly belong. And even his own parents, the woman who had conceived him and bore him for nine months within her body and finally went through what must have been agonizing labor just to bring him into this world, didn't even love him or want him. And dear lord, how _cursed_ must he be?

Then of course, after being a human icerberg for years on end, Anthony Stark traipsed into his life and would you look at that? Loki's suddenly that hot little flame that used to flirt like the devil and get drunk and have..._questionable_ sexual experiences and date and flirt and fuck anything cute with a _pulse_. It wasn't something he was particularly _proud_ of, yet it was a time he had forced himself to view as _growth_. Because he had felt _something_, even if it was shallow and barely broke the surface and kind of flimsy when it came to human emotion. But it'd been there, nonetheless, planted on fallow ground, sure. But never the less, he knew that seed was planted, and it was foundering, and all he had to do was let it grow, let it get sunshine and rain and it would grow to be a big, strong tree with actual _roots_ this time. And all he had to do was learn to feel _something_ more than bitterness and uncertainty and anger and dear lord, this is going to be really _hard_ but Loki was almost-kind of-not at all sure that it _will_ be worth it one day.

Somehow, Loki inherently knew that Anthony was going to be his saving grace- and well, looky here, Loki's done a whole fucking 180 and is it sad that this isn't a entirely rare occurrence for Loki to change his mind like the wind?- and maybe teach him how to feel love, and care, and tenderness, and gentleness and maybe trust? _Could_ he trust? And was it actually _wise_ to place his trust in someone so flighty and unstable as Anthony? Maybe it wasn't _directly_ in his nature to be a bit fight-or-flight when it came to any and all relationships of any sort or orientation, but he was an addict and a victim and they're both a little well-versed on how to _avoid_ human emotion or you know, humans in general. And it makes Loki's monstrous bitterness rise up again, like a building on fire in his soul, to realize that all of his problems are indirectly- *cough* _directly_ *cough*- Odin and Thor's fault? Because they made his self-esteem disappear like a magic trick, and made him understand hatred like he had been born with it sown into his skin and implanted in his bones and infiltrated into his organs, and why hadn't he run away all those years ago when there was still _hope_ for his slowly more jaded soul. When he had had a sliver of a chance of normalcy and happiness instead of pure fucking misery that he can't push away any longer because it's seeped into every emotion and every smile and even the flecks of gold in his irises that he's pretty sure no one's even ever noticed but him because they show up _fabulously_ when he's crying and sitting in the bathroom and wishing for all the world that he could just curl into fetal position and die because he can't rein in who he is and how awful and sullen and irascible he is and everyone hates him for it, even _he_ hates himself for it. There's not much on this planet worse than hating yourself 24/7.

And to think, Loki's imagining that Stark might fix _this_. This fuckwad of confusion and depression and unhappiness and bitter coldness. -snort-

His one and only last resort was _Thor_. His brother and his rock and his tissue when his nose was runny and his eyes were leaky like Niagra Falls, _before_. Before all of heaven and hell crashed in on Loki's sweet, entirely flawed view on who he was and what he was and you know...his entire life and every truth he'd ever been lied to about. Because, all of a sudden, everything was a _lie_. Even _Loki_ was a lie. Sure, he lived and breathed and his heart pumped and he existed. But other than that, Loki's entire _soul_ was one big falsehood. And it's not a little white lie, it's a big lie, like Jason Bourne and his fucking identity. Loki was finding out things about himself that he couldn't even _begin_ to comprehend. But probably what was the worst, was finding out exactly _why_ his 'father' had never really loved him, why the man he had tried to win over time and time again until he finally gave up, had decided he wasn't worth his good time. Because he _wasn't_. Because Loki didn't _deserve_ more than the roof over his head and the clothes on his back and the food in his stomach and the education he was getting. Loki didn't deserve to play ball with Odin, or get wisdom about 'girls' from Odin, or have Odin's approval on his life. That wasn't his right because he wasn't Odin's son. And deep down, hadn't Loki _always_ known this? Something was always _off_, and he always knew it was _him_. He was wrong. Something was defective about him. And sure, being an orphan wasn't his fault, but being hated for who he was and what he was and how he acted and the miserable, ungrateful prick he had been _was_ his fault. And he deserved every verbal-lashing and black-eyed beating he got over the last nineteen years.

But the funny thing is, Thor never treated him like he was superior until Loki began turning into a skinny Jack Frost. Until Loki turned into this maelstrom of confusion and despair and depression and anguish that Thor could _never_ understand. And all the heartbreak in Thor's eyes when Loki found out who he really was- a look Loki _resented_ with every raw, bitter fiber of his small, skinny body- was something that Loki would _never_ understand. Because right now, there was this wide chasm ripped between them, holding them captive _worlds_ apart. And Loki wasn't sure that chasm could be traversed, he wasn't sure he could ever get to the other side, and quite frankly, he wasn't all too positive he _wanted_ to. Because as much as he had cherished and idolized Thor, finding out that his brother had kept this secret, that he had continued this lie, that he had been a part of this conspiracy to keep Loki in the dark and confused and hurting for god knows how long if Odin hadn't nearly broken a blood vessel screaming the truth out- _finally_- had put a bit of a _strain_ on the relationship. And really, Loki's just as ready to call it quits with all of the Odinson's once and for all, but there's that little-brother voice screaming that he wants his big brother _back_, that brute he practically worshiped and who _worshiped him_ _back_. And other than Stark, there wasn't a _soul_ on Earth who cherished and adored Loki as much as _Thor_ did.

He sprawled out across his bed, smothering his face deep into his sweet-smelling comfort- which still held just a trace of Stark's whiskey/motor oil/ coffee/ spice presence. And if Loki closed his eyes, he can almost _feel_ the engineer' s presence, just as it was last night before he fell asleep, sprawled out just like Loki was, with a hand curled around Loki's hair to keep him right where he was. And in the morning, with Stark snoring like a _grizzly_ and his alarm clock screaming shrilly enough to wake up _Satan_ down in the core of the earth and a headache already coiling up and ready to _strike_ in the back of his mind, Loki was pretty much close to ripping his hair out or scratching his eyes from their sockets or stabbing himself in the ear drums just to make the noise _stop_. But to make one such nerve-grating noise off, he had to climb over Stark and somehow keep his head back far enough so that the boy didn't unintentionally rip a good portion of his hair out of his scalp- even if Loki had been considering doing this himself, someone else doing it just wasn't _acceptable_, Loki's got _standards_ too, y'know. He stared at the sleeping boy beside him, considering waking him, but knowing it would be futile because, like himself, Stark was the type to swat at you and roll over to go back to sleep when you tried to wake him. Hence it taking a cacophony of noise to wake Loki from even a light sleep.

Gingerly, Loki got on his hands and knees, cursing _everything_ in the world, and easing himself over Stark to reach and strain for the alarm clock. Finally, spider-fingers (for once, thank god for his unnaturally long fingers) tapped the button to turn the fucking thing off. And he relaxed.

"Well, y'know, I'd dreamed of waking up with you on top of me, but, uh, I didn't think it'd be so soon." Like the feline he practically was, Loki jumped at the sound of Anthony's sleepy, groggy voice. Flinching, he looked down at the face two inches from his own. Big brown eyes engulfed his electric shock green.

"If you go all Martin Luther King Jr. on me, you'll never see me in this position again." He deadpanned. And _no_, Stark's hands ghosting up and down his thighs was _not_ seducing him in even the slightest. -snort-

Stark blinked.

Then burst out laughing, effectively breaking the sensuality of the moment and allowing Loki to comfortable waltz out of the room to Stark's early-morning laughter and the remembered sensation of calloused, strong fingers whispering against his legs.

* * *

Tony stared up at the ceiling, shrouded in the darkness of the night and the loneliness of addiction. Other than the pills in his hands, there were several things tormenting Tony at midnight on this particular evening/early morning:

1) How the fuck does he explain the arc reactor to Loki? And how will the boy react? Panic? Fear? Disgust? Will he just be seen as a _monster_ in those green eyes?

2) Sex. With a certain snowy-tinted, inkspun-haired, emerald-eyed teenager. _No_, he won't name any names. He'll _scream_ them-but he _really_ needs to get his mind out of the gutter...

3) Rent. A job. Such tedious, irritating things. He'd really rather bed his ethereal god of a maybe-almost-who-actually-knows boyfriend.

4) Was he actually wanting to commit to a '_thing_'- because 'relationship' is a _bad_ word, in case you weren't aware- with Loki? Was it _that_ serious- hmm...can you say '_denial_', Tony?

5) _Booze_. And lots of it.

6) Something Loki had said to him the other day, "_You know, if I could have anything in the world, all I would want was you, me, a bottle of whiskey, and a meteor shower on that roof again, but never-ending. Like, we could be stuck in limbo, where no one else existed on the same celestial plane that we did. So we didn't have to actually...interact with other beings._" And, as crazy and fucked up as that idea was, Tony loved it. As long as clothes were an option, not a requirement- and let us not forget that Tony's an opportunist. Clothes would be ripped off or torn off with teeth or-

...The precise location of Tony's state of mind at any given moment is the _gutter _of sex, sex, and more sex.

And, last, but certainly not least (and really the only thought in his mind, at the current moment, that wasn't Loki-centric)- 7) Afghanistan. _Yinsen_. Brown eyes going completely and utterly blank in front of him as another's life slipped away from them. Death, it was certainly something Tony was familiar with, but he'd never seen it so close, so _personal_. And Yinsen, giving his life up so that Tony could maybe survive and get out of the cave that that man had been in for god knows how long before Tony had even gotten his ass dragged there. Oh, the _fear_ he had felt, the way his spine rattled and his skull shook every time something exploded or some part of the cave crumbled or someone screamed because guns were being shot and he was a Weapon of Mass Destruction, and it made him realize just how _fragile_ human beings are. How with just a few pieces of metal melded together, he could squeeze his fingers and _obliterate_ a human being. He had played God, and it put a bad taste in his mouth. He had taken lives, he had killed, he had destroyed; to persevere, to survive, what was the price? What was the going rate for life? Another life? Must one die to keep another breathing? Is it just a back and forth, a _game_ some Being in the clouds was playing? Were He and the Devil dueling it out on a chess board, pawn for pawn?

These were the thoughts that crowded Tony's head between the spaces filled with ideas for new robots, and a system with its own personality to one day run his home, and the hazy alcohol-drenched memories of his childhood, and the pain and traumas that made up _every_ human life- especially of one so crazy and hectic as Tony's. Throughout it all, there were strains pretty green eyes and laughing pink lips and wind-blown raven hair and pallid skin. And that made it a little _tolerable_, because if he looked hard enough, he could find a snatch of that pretty angel that would pull him out of the depths of despair and back onto solid ground, and a smile would find its way back onto his face and he could breathe once more- even if it only lasted a _whopping_ thirty seconds. But maybe, _maybe_ he just needed thirty seconds of bliss every once in a while to keep him sane and strong and to keep that cocky, arrogant, devil-may-care mask up.

* * *

Tony grinned down at the moaning boy under his hands. Loki's eyes were closed and the class was about to start, but really, neither of them _cared_ because this was their one class together- not that Tony was actually taking this class, but he made it work- and they weren't going to _waste_ it actually listening to the lecture. -snort- _No_, they wasted it with Tony's nimble fingers massaging Loki's _whatever_- so far, feet, hands, and now shoulders because this kid has some _serious_ issues with tensing up. I _wonder_ why.

He can barely concentrate with that wintry, somewhat peppermint tea smell from his hair and skin and just _Loki_ in and of himself, in his nose and fucking with his brain because _nothing_ smells like Loki. Nothing. It is purely Loki. But that's the case with pretty much _everything_ about Loki because Tony's never been this _close_ to a boy before to find out how he smelled and how he smiled and how much his eyes changed color like a god damn mood ring and how soft his skin was and how he could feel those muscles move under his hands because Loki was arching his back because "Oh, _that's_ the spot." And Tony's pretty sure Loki's not in on the fact that he sounds _beyond_ sexual right now. But Tony's _okay_ with that, even if he's getting looks from the other students that are making him blush, because Loki's visibly relaxing under his touch. Which, of course, was precisely _why_ he started doing this. And really, Tony's never given a massage before in his life, but he's a quick learner and easily found out exactly what got Loki to roll his eyes back and drop his head back and just turn to utter putty under Tony's hands.

The thing is, Tony's got a hang-over migraine the approximate size of a small country squeezed into his brain. Every other noise in the whole fucking universe is like someone grating their fingernails down a chalkboard, _except_ Loki's voice, Loki's soft breathing, Loki's pen scratching across his notebook. And Loki does this really, absurdly _fantastic_ thing where he brushes Tony's mud-colored hair with his fingers. And Tony knows it's just an absent-minded habit, just a idle rhythm (because if Tony knows anything about Loki, it's that Loki likes rhythms and tunes and soft noises- like how he hums when he's in the shower, but _shhhh_, because Loki doesn't know Tony knows about that- and idle movements), but every time Loki's fingers run through his hair, his headache vanishes. And of course, any touch from Loki is a good touch, but they're still getting used to physical contact and what's good and what's okay and what's bad and what's over-the-line and Tony still can't get over the fact that, um, he's super-duper-uber in love with a _boy_. A boy. Yep, Tony Stark, notorious playboy who could rival Hugh Hefner himself, is in love with a skinny, misanthropic, occasionally snarky teenage boy. What's the world coming to? He isn't sure, but with Loki in his sights, the world suddenly looks a whole lot more _beautiful_.

"You sure you don't wanna skip class?" He murmured, scooting closer to Loki and resting his chin on a thin, bony shoulder. Peppermint invaded his nose and brain and raced over his body and enveloped him in Loki's pure, clean, minty, wintry, dark scent. He spent hours upon hours upon nights upon weeks thinking of this and recreating this when he was in Afghanistan and the only true smell was smoldering metal and sweat and dust and fire and, a few times, _blood_. That metallic odor that made a chill race up his spine and his eyes go dark and a frown pull down the corners of his lips and pushed his eyebrows together because it reminded him of everything bad and dark and sinister in this world and how _close_ he was to it and how _close_ he had come to _becoming_ it when he was in that- thankfully, destroyed- suit. And even with the medicine he's been pouring down his throat to combat all the haunting memories crammed into his brain, he _can't_ forget that moment when brown eyes looked into his and all Tony could see was joy and freedom and there wasn't a trace of fear and _that_ scared Tony. Because that moment when everything started going blurry and dark and there were dots dancing in front of his face when he was fourteen, he was frightened and terrified of what was to come, of the fact that he was dying and soon, he would be no more. Maybe it was because Tony had known he wouldn't be remembered more than a few weeks, that no one would mourn over him because he didn't have friends or family or anyone who _cared_. Because, if Tony died, the only person who would care was the media. And Pepper, because Pepper always cared, it was her biggest flaw and greatest virtue.

Loki smirked and shook his head. "To do what, exactly?" His voice was just short of driving Tony crazy. Like, batshit, off his cracker, nutty as a pecan, out-of-his-fucking-mind crazy. But, then again, that's kind of the general effect Loki has on Tony- and he'll be damned if that boy doesn't know _exactly_ what he's doing.

He nuzzled his lips against Loki's jaw. "Mmm, I could think of a few things." And yeah, he was flirting, because when were they _not_ flirting? He was fairly sure Constantine was going to break something if he walked in on Loki and Tony in a tickle fight or kissing or doing something incredibly goopy and mushy and really, this _wasn't_ how Tony did things but it was a nice change and, if he had his way, a _permanent_ one. He had never liked being a player or a heartbreaker or an easy fuck. He wanted something substantial this once, and god damn, he was going to get it.

Loki laughed, all low and seductive and breathy, and no, _no_, that's _okay,_ Loki, it's not like Tony has hormones or anything or you know, reacts to you so strongly he was beginning to think he was turning into a trip-wire, one wrong move, and _boom_!, he's hot and flushed and about to fall head over heels in this overwhelming desire and love and lust for this incredibly fucked-up boy who was just as _terrified_ of this as he was. And maybe that's why it was so sharp and so consuming and encompassing- because it was dangerous and risky and a really, _really_ bad idea. But, Tony _loved_ bad ideas. Loves them like southerners love sweet tea. "Alright, but nothing-" And here, Tony pressed a finger to Loki's perfect rose-tinted lips.

"No rules." He smirked, snatching up Loki's backpack and dragging him out of the room, because there's something they need to talk about and he really doesn't _want_ to especially with everything becoming perfect and comfortable; but that's precisely _why_ they have to talk now. Because if this goes one or two steps further, Tony's gonna be in deep _shit_ because Loki is gonna find out and how will he explain exactly _why_ he hadn't told him yet? Was there even a viable answer? Other than fear, of course, because it seemed like _fear_ was fueling a larger and larger portion of Tony's decisions.

"Where are we going?" Loki asked, stumbling along behind Tony's unwittingly extra-long strides that, for once, rivaled Loki's lanky, long-legged pace. "And why are we going there so fast?" And, _yes_, Tony, that _was_ a grumble you heard.

"The roof." He smiled softly, remembering that night not too long ago when everything had been perfect for one ill-fated night that had turned into a spectacularly tragic morning. But he _refused_ to let this turn tragic, he refused to realize that this was _big_, that this was earth-shattering and mind-warping and that, _yeah_, Loki's gonna be extraordinarily _pissed_ that Tony kept this from him for so _long_. And no, it's not going to be okay with him that Tony kept the fact that he nearly died, a secret. Because, he and Tony both know, he deserved _better_. He deserved to know every in-and-out fact about what went on in Afghanistan; and Tony deserved to tell him and finally get everything out and in the open air so that it would stop sitting like an anchor in his mind, weighing him down until he could barely get out of bed every morning. And if it hadn't been for Loki, Tony would probably be in that cave, still, or _worse_, dead in that cave, just a decomposing, rotting body that had been forgotten by all except the rats.

On the roof, Tony looked out and saw the entire campus, shining in mid-morning splendor, and bright, direct sunlight. And every bird, squirrel, and campus cat was out, scavenging and sunbathing and singing their little hearts out because it was beautiful and the world was filled with green grass and blue skies and colorful flowers and a big, gleaming yellow sun. So, why was there this dark cloud hanging over his head, just waiting to let out a torrential downpour that threatened to drown him in his own version of the god damn Flood? Oh, right, the arc reactor- that cursed device that actually kept _him_ from having many little pieces of shrapnel stuck deep in his heart. Right. This is going to be fucking _fabulous_. Loki's gonna be _thrilled_. Or, he might rip Tony's eyeballs out, and Tony would let him, because it was nothing short of what he _deserved_.

He turned to face the inky-curls, the sparkling green eyes that really rivaled the gems they resembled, and the just barely smiling lips. And his heart choked around the blood it was pumping, contracting a little unevenly and making Tony's chest tighten almost unbearably, and _yep_, he's already drowning because here comes that violent storm that will pretty much rain down Armageddon on Tony's head. _Damn_.

"Stark? Are you okay?" Loki was frowning when Tony came back down to earth. Whoops. Adderall, where you at?

"Uh. Yeah. I, um, have to tell you something." He fidgeted, turning into a paranoid, twitching mass of cells and veins and organs- that honestly, were starting to shut down and Tony might _die_ before he can get this out- and sweat and tears- which might come flooding his eyeballs before this is over because this is really the most personally devastating thing he's dealt with in _five_ years- and blood- which was pounding in his ears and making him feel like he's going to faint (not _unlikely_).

Loki sat back, green eyes assessing Tony shrewdly and making him feel really, _really_ naked, like Loki could see his soul- and maybe he _could_, the jury was still out on that one- and right now, Tony was fairly positive he had never been more vulnerable. "Go on." He murmured, his eyes still glued to Tony like he was fucking Medusa.

"Well. I never told you about Afghanistan." Loki's eyes widened. "And there's a reason why. It's all really complicated, and there are parts of it that are still a jumble and I don't really remember much of escaping- except...the guy that was helping me died." He saw Loki's face darken. "And, that scene keeps replaying in my head. Everything else is so fuzzy, except the suit and that first few minutes of adrenaline before he died, and how you were the only thing keeping me going and I felt sure that we were both going to get out of there, Loki, but he died, he- he _sacrificed_ his life for _mine_. And I know he wanted to see his family again, but he's dead, Loki and they were dead and he never told me that and I was so _scared_ when his eyes just suddenly turned off like a light and I was alone and it was the first time in my life when I thought I _couldn't_ do something by myself. I mean, I've been the lone wolf forever, I've been the one who didn't need anybody, I've been the one who could do it myself. But I trusted him to be there, I believed he was going to be by my side and we were going to get out of there together but he always _wanted_ to die, and I feel like it's my fault he's dead- despite all. I can't live with that, and with seeing his blood all over the place and on my hands and on his face and no matter how many times I wash my hands, I can't get _rid_ of that blood. I feel it crawling all over my skin and I've used bleach and clorox and industrial stuff I had laying around but it wont come off. Loki, I can't get rid of it." And Tony was pretty sure he was having a panic attack but it was _okay_, because Loki was there, holding him and shushing him and telling him he was okay and that it wasn't his fault and that Yinsen was happy because he was with his family, even if neither of them _believed_ any of it. Even if it was all a lie, it was okay because it was Loki's lie and Loki's comfort and Loki's arms wrapped around him and Loki kneeling beside him on this fucking roof in fucking New York in fucking America, land of the _free_. He was free. He was safe. He had Loki again and nobody was going to hurt him.

For a few minutes, they just sat there, Loki hushing him and brushing his hair and whispering things in his ear that he was fairly sure he would _never_ forget and making him relax and remember how to breathe again. And Tony just tried not to panic, tried to understand that this was for the best and that he _needed_ to tell Loki this or it would just get all gnarled up and be yet another thing that bruised and beat them. And they needed to know things about each other, everything didn't have to be a secret because Tony didn't _need_ to protect himself here, with Loki. And that thing in his chest was his lifeline, but it wasn't really, because that was Loki, it had been Loki for almost a year now, and without realizing it, they had become so much _more_ important to each other than breathing or having a pulse or continuing to exist. Because _without_ each other, neither of them could exist. Now that they had found each other, there wasn't a thing more devastating than _losing_ each other, and really, that's what keeps them both awake at night.

"I have to tell you something else." He sniffed, ew. He hadn't even realized he was crying or that it sounded like his voice-box had been through a blender or that his nose was now a factory for runny snot. "When they, uh, captured me, they blew up Happy's car. Unfortunately, I was actually getting into the car when the bomb went off." Loki went rigid beside him. Just keep breathing, just keep breathing, just keep- "And, some metal shards hit me in the chest." He sat up to take off his shirt, putting his hand over the arc reactor, because he didn't _really_ want Loki to see it because right now it felt like he was ripping his heart out and placing it in Loki's hands and saying '_Please, don't break this. It's all I've got_.' and he has never felt so _susceptible_. So _open_. So _scared_. "Yinsen was able to take out most of the shards, but there were some little pieces of shrapnel stuck inside me. They, uh, they call those kinds of injuries 'dead men walking' because you're fine for like a week or something, but the pieces get pulled closer to your heart and one day you just fall over dead. So, he, uh, he fixed it by hooking me up to this fucking car battery and I don't really get all the ins and outs of it, but I built-" His voice caught in his slowly restricting throat because, no, he didn't want to move his hand and Loki's eyes are glassy and his vision keeps blurring and there's something warm and wet on his face because, fuck, he's a _monster_, a _creation_, something no one would ever want or see anything in but freak, freak, freak, **_freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreak freakfreakfreakfreak_**.

"It's okay, sweetie." Loki murmured, his voice cracked and shredded raw. And Tony decided right then and there that that was the most absolutely** heart-breaking** sound he had ever heard.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the arc reactor thrum steadily under his hand- unlike his heart which couldn't decide if it wanted to stop, start, or tango. "I built this," And _no_, he didn't move his hand. "To, you know, not be hooked up to a car battery for the rest of my life. And it's powerful enough to run my heart for like fifty lifetimes. And, it, uh, it's like a battery, and _no_ _one_ knows about it. Not even my dad, or Stane, or Pepper. It's run by Palladium and I have to change out the Palladium chip every now and then cause it burns out." He was mumbling by now, feeling Loki's worried eyes on him and through him and piercing his soul.

"Anthony, look at me, please." His voice was soft, but he could hear the hurt in it. Hurt that _he_ had put there. Because he hadn't trusted Loki by keeping this from him and he was still too _scared_ to let the other boy see it, because, it made him a freak, a Frankenstein, a robot. What if Loki hated him or was repulsed by him? How could he cope with that? How could he live with that? Nevertheless, what Loki wants, Loki gets, so brown met green and melded together like oxygen and carbon dioxide and nitrogen and hydrogen. "What's scaring you, darling?" Green eyes traced every flat plane and rolling slope of Tony's face. "I'm right _here_, there's nothing for you to fear."

"That rhymed." He smiled, falteringly. He was failing again. There was no way to stop this, it was going to happen, he had to show Loki, he had to trust him. And he knew he _could_, he knew there was no reason not to- except that Tony had trusted too many times, and each time he wound up here again, breaking down with no shoulder to cry on and nothing to lean on but a bottle of Jack Daniels and an almost-overdose of Adderall or something equally strong (or worse, _stronger_). "I'm scared you'll leave. I'm scared you'll...be repulsed by me. Or, or, think...something worse."

Freak.

Monster.

Frankenstein.

Robot.

These are the things that Tony fears will come out of Loki's gorgeous, rosey, eloquent mouth. These are the things that will finally bring Tony to his _knees_. That will tear him apart. That will pull him six feet under and bury him there forever, never allowed to breathe or see the man that has become his _world_ again. And he doesn't _deserve_ this delicate creature with concerned pools of green and planes of flat, sharp white and rosy curves and ink spilling down his shoulders and wisping around his chin and playing with the shell of his ear. He knew he didn't and it killed him sometimes because this shouldn't be happening, he shouldn't be the one and only person Loki cared about or looked at this way or touched with gentleness or spoke to with love. _No_. Tony didn't get to be loved this way or cared about or have this kind of gentleness and tenderness directed toward him by possibly the most acrimonious fucker he had ever met. And Tony wasn't supposed to be here, handing this being his very own heart on a silver platter because he _wanted_ to. Because Loki deserved it and so much more. Because for once in his life,

Tony found someone he loved _more_ than himself.

* * *

Thor walked up onto the porch he had fallen off of as a child and listened to Loki cackle deviously while he peered over the railing at Thor's crumpled, moaning form on the ground. He absent-mindedly rubbed the scar on his arm from that childhood '_accident_', although Thor knew Loki had tripped him with one fleet-footed ankle. But Thor hadn't tattled. He had _never_ tattled on Loki, because he knew that Loki would _suffer_ if he did. And when _Loki_ was miserable or hurt or upset, _Thor_ was too. It had been that way since the moment he saw the pale, green-eyed, cooing bundle of baby skin and baby smell and baby limbs that his mother had taken from some shady woman in Germany. Teeny-tiny baby fingers wrapped tightly around one of his own, and that was it. Thor's heart was stolen so quickly, he hadn't even realized it at the time.

Now, it was all too apparent.

Because Thor was in _anguish_. He had hurt Loki. He had heard his ribs crack beneath his fists, and the force of that sound had nearly broken him clean in two. Because, although it wasn't the first time he and Loki had gotten up in each other's faces enough to come to blows, this had been the first time it was vicious and malicious and terribly nasty and dark and awful. And then, Thor had been glued to the floor when Odin started viciously beating Loki. If it hadn't been for Tony...he feared his brother would no longer be living. And he should have known it would be that way, he should have forced his father to leave, he should have been there beside Loki, protecting him even if he didn't think he needed it. Because that's what big brothers _do_, god damn it, and Thor was Loki's big brother. And if it took him walking through fire, and bleeding, and breaking his back, and singeing his bone marrow to get Loki back, to get his trust again, he _would_ do it.

But, he knew it would take more than just bodily sacrifice, because he had done something that had nearly _ruined_ his little brother. He had done precisely what that-that _motherfucker_, Thanos, had done. Thor couldn't even forgive himself for that. It had nearly driven him insane, thinking about it for the past month. It _haunted_ him. He couldn't even get his head in the game, and his coach was screeching at him at every practice. Thor's life was falling down around his ears, so, he came to the one person he _knew_ could help him fix it. The one and only person besides Tony and Thor who actually understood Loki. Even though, really, he was pretty sure Loki was too complex and contradictory to ever _understand_ truly. But her insight would do nothing but help. And he needed a good homecooked meal, because all this worrying and fretting and insomnia was making him shed much needed weight.

The door opened before he could raise his hand to knock, and he was pulled into a crushing hug by a strong woman with blazing blue eyes and flaxen blonde hair. His mom. Loki's momma- he was the baby, but Thor had refused to join his father in heckling the boy for loving Frigga. Their mother was an angel, straight from heaven and perfect beyond all belief. And she loved her boys.

"Hello, my son." She smiled, but there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes. Her other son wasn't here. _Again_. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" She bustled towards the kitchen, knowing without asking that her big blond spawn would need something for his shrinking belly.

"I need your help, mom." He sighed, sitting on the counter like he and Loki had when they were little and pelting the all-knowing momma with questions about seahorses and their bedtime world of the nine realms and other countries and Alice In Wonderland (always a favorite among the Odinson boys- Loki had always had a fondness for the red queen-) and whether Hel was really in the core of earth and if god existed and how far away was heaven and did spaceships go to heaven or was the moon further away than that? And did god give angels their wings every time a bell rang- to which Loki would scowl as Thor obnoxiously rang a bell for an hour on end- and for the nth time, did the devil have a spaded tail because Loki wanted to go as Lucifer for Halloween because Thor was going as the angel Gabriel and they could have an epic battle to the death- maybe just see who could eat more candy without throwing up while mom and dad slept (Frigga had found them sleeping in a pile of wrappers the next morning with chocolate smiles and sticky fingers).

She nodded, like she had already known. "This is about Loki." It wasn't a question, because she already knew. Of course she did, the woman was omniscient. He still remembered Loki grumbling about how she had eyes in the back of her head.

He shrugged. "I know what I did was..._unforgivable_, but mom, I can't-" He broke off at her puzzled expression. "What?"

"What did you do? Thor, he's not mad at you. He's mad at me and Odin. Eventually, he'll let you back in. He _loves_ you, darling, it's just going to take him some time to realize that because he was adopted doesn't make you two any less brothers." She smiled and patted his hand reassuringly, but this time, it was Thor's turn to be confused.

"That's _not_ what I'm talking about." He frowned. "Mom, did dad tell you about what happened last month?" And dear god, it had been a _month_. He should've come sooner. How had father not told her that Loki was in the hospital? That...that was _low_, even for his dad and his disdain for Loki.

_"I'd fucking love to know exactly what it is I do that makes him so hateful!" Loki snapped, pacing vehemently in the study Thor had secluded them to until their father stopped raging. Mother's voice had sounded a little harried the last time he had allowed himself to listen. "I mean, I'm just a normal teenager, and I didn't take his fucking car, **Thor**." Eyes that could cut through steel looked him dead-on. "I wonder who it was who did." And Loki was walking closer and Thor was just the teensiest bit scared for his life._

_"Look, I didn't know what to do! And you...you covered for me." Thor had known he would, and even though it made him sick, he had thrown him to the wolves with the intention that they would go for his jugular before his own. His stomach churned with the realization. "_Why_?" He peered at the boy with the shiner and wild black curls._

_Loki's head snapped towards him he must've gotten whiplash. "_Why_?" He _laughed_. Fucking hell. "Because your my _brother_, you ignoramus! Of _course_, I'm gonna take the blame, and you damn well _knew_ it. I have to admit, I didn't think you quite the brightest tool in the shed, lovey, but you made me _proud_ with that clever move." He smirked at Thor and winked. "Plus you _lied_, and you know I'm always for a little corruption." But it was all baseless and fallacious. Because Loki _cherished_ innocence and purity like it was golden treasure. All because his had been taken away at a very young age._

_"I'll keep you safe from him, brother. I promise." Thor vowed solemnly. It was the least he could do for the dark sunshine in his life._

_Loki arched a perfect, pith-black eyebrow. "Don't make a promise you can't keep."_

* * *

Frigga was fuming. If smoke was not coming out of her ears and through her nose, she would be shocked. And that old, miserable man was going to damn well wish he was in Canada or Hel by the time she got through with him. He had hurt her _baby_. Her Loki. Her intellectual ball of misery and loss of identity and confused gay son that held her heart in a grip so tight it _hurt_. But that was a mother, that was the price she payed to have the two biggest blessings in the world. She would have given her limbs, her life, her heart, her blood, her brain for those boys. They were _hers_. Loki was _hers_. Loki was not an orphan, or adopted, she might as well have carried him for nine months in her stomach. She had gotten up with him every night and sang to him and Thor while she fed him, and while Thor watched, a protective hawk. The teary crack in his voice as he explained what had happened, without leaving out a painstaking detail, to his brother had torn up her heart. To him, she had given a stern talking-to, advice, a hug, and a warm meal- complete with the cherry ice cream she had made in case Loki came around. It was his favorite desert and always stained his lips a shade of red that made him blush.

Odin was in their bedroom, slowly taking off his tie and staring at the TV screen with the eyes of a much _older_ man. She noticed wrinkles starting to sprinkle across his face. He was aging quickly. It had been apparent that he would when she saw him and Loki fight for the first time. Hatred and resentment ages one quickly, takes away the wisdom and replaces it with _haggardness_. It had done this to her husband over the past fifteen years. At one time, she had felt pity for him for he missed out on Loki's creativity and talent and his little spark of life and fire and promise for the future.

"You have some _serious_ explaining to do, Odin Odinson. And I suggest you start. _Right._ _Now_."

* * *

**Cliffhangers. I swear I don't do this on purpose.**

**This thing got waaayyyy out of hand, lemme know if you guys are okay with chapters more than 10,000 words, or if that's just too fucking much xD. I'm wordy. Don't shoot me! Pweez. Also, I may start putting up a playlist of songs that pertain to whatever chapter I've just put up for this story, on my profile. (My A/N are already like novel-size), if you guys want. If not, never mind, I shall go back to my music-fanatic corner and be silent...ish. **

**I hope you all are having a lovely week! love and internet hugs :) xoxox**

**~Rayn**


	16. Chapter 16- Fix You Pt 2

**It's shorter! And happy! Wow.**

**Do enjoy, my lovely followers, reviewers, and ghostly visitors. I love you all.**

**xoxox**

* * *

Howard sat in his big executive chair behind his big executive desk, zoning out and staring at the sprawling New York City view spanning his glass wall. He had had this desk and this office and this luxury for many years, since right before Tony was born and the company took off like a rocket. It had been during those early years of his son's life that he had devoted his all to this business. It had become his obsession, his pulse, his life. The company had consumed him, like a Venus Flytrap. He supposed, if he had been honest with himself, that was one of the reasons they were so estranged today. Because he didn't understand his prodigy, his heir, the little piece of himself and Maria that was flying off the handle and spinning into a downward spiral. Or maybe he had been coming undone for a long time, and Howard was just now starting to pay attention.

Stane was pacing in front of his desk, fury obvious on his face. But Howard wasn't really too sure he cared. This whole idea had been _wrong_ from the start, and he knew it. But now, his partner was becoming a little unhinged. If Howard had been a lesser man, it might have scared him. But he was Howard Stark, the only thing that scared him was God. Because, if he was facing facts- which he seemed to be doing today, for once- he knew he had a lot of things to answer for, a lot of explaining to do when he got to those pearly gates.

"I told you, to stay away from him." Stane finally faced him, grey eyes blazing, bald head shining, face red. Howard looked at him dully, not really caring if the man reached across the desk and strangled him. "This is _bad_, Howard. If he figures out it was you and me behind the all of this, he'll really ruin you." A hand on each end of his desk, leaning down to be eyeball-to-eyeball with him, Obadiah Stane really was an intimidating man.

But Howard couldn't find it in him to care.

The end was nigh.

* * *

Frigga sat silently, patiently listening to her husband's weary voice as he explained what had happened a month ago. Her hands folded in her lap, the stoic lady she had been raised and molded to be. But what only Odin knew, was that she had a temper like no lady had ever had, she was a warrioress. And that's why they fit so well together. Both royalty in their own right, but warriors, leaders, survivors. But what had she now to fight for, but her sons? And if she must fight against her biggest ally, she would.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what came over me. You _know_ how he makes me." Odin shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

Frigga narrowed her eyes. Her fingers clenched into fists. "Yes, husband, I do. But, I _expected_ you to act like a _grown_ man who was in charge of himself. I expected you to put your son over your own feelings." Her voice was a lethal weapon in and of itself. Odin looked wary. "That boy _is_ our son. Whether you want to believe that or not. He was _not_ a bartering tool. He is our child, you old goat. And you will treat him as such, or so help me, god, you will be _sorry_." She was pretty sure that if her glare had been any more on fire, Odin would've burst into flames right there in front of her.

Odin scowled. "He's an insolent _bastard_. You know how he is, Frigg. I will _not_ take such disrespect!" He slammed his fist down on the table between them. She didn't jolt. She was used to his explosions and outbursts.

A vein jumped in her forehead. "Leave him _alone_, Odin." She glared directly into his one crystal blue eye.

God help him if he ignored her warning.

* * *

The first thing Loki noticed, was the heaviness in his chest. Anthony was probably about to show him something that could fuck with both of them. But he trusted the boy, he knew that if Anthony showed him this, he needed to see it. And yeah, he was a _tiny_ bit pissed that Stark had kept this from him for months- but there are concessions given to those we love. So, Loki let it pass...for now.

The second thing he noticed was the wildness in Stark's eyes. A feral fear, a flight-or-fight mode. And it was all directed at him. Anthony was _scared_ of him.

The third thing, was _love_. He could feel love from himself, and from Stark. They had passed over some sort of thresh-hold into a whole different relationship than they had first been in. Because, _yes_, Loki was still a brash, acerbic misanthrope. And _yes_, Stark was still an addict, and afraid of commitment, and a little bit unstable. But here they were. A year later, and things were _okay_. A little shaky, and not really on the most solid of grounds, but okay nonetheless.

"I'm scared you'll leave. I'm scared you'll...be repulsed by me. Or, or, think...something worse." The words were uttered by a shaky voice and a deep, husky tone. The tears on his face weren't hidden. And this was _big_, this was unprecedented. Anthony Stark was admitting to being _afraid_. And while the admission was new and rare and something like this would _never_ happen again, the words cut through Loki like a knife. Because of all the people in the world that Stark should be afraid, Loki wasn't one of them.

He leaned forward, their noses _almost_ touching, but didn't touch him. Stark was like a bomb, one wrong move and they were goners. "Darling, I'm never going to leave you. I won't think anything bad. You _can_ trust me." His voice was low and soothing, that same calm, neutral tone he had used with Thor that time he almost beat a boy to death for hitting Loki. Mmhmm. Thor had been a _bit_ overprotective.

Fun Fact #13: Loki has always been a bit like his brother's handler. No one could calm the big blond like he could, and after a while, everyone had given up even trying.

Stark's hand clenched on his chest. Loki could see the dull gleam of metal through his fingers. Something warm and apprehensive stirred in his stomach. If it weren't for the look on Anthony's face, he would have gotten up and walked a few feet away. This was too close, _Stark_ was too close. But he stayed, letting this aura of fear and secrets and passion and amor pretty much suffocate him. They _needed_ this. They needed to go through this, _together_, side-by-side.

"Promise?" The bigger, stronger man's voice was shaking, barely a whisper. To be honest, Loki could hardly see through the sheen of tears to witness Stark's desperate, wide eyes. He blinked, letting the tears fall unabashedly.

"Cross my heart." He smiled, pleased that the action was mirrored on the other boy's face.

Stark took a deep breath, then let his hand fall. Something blue glowed, reflecting off their eyes as Loki took it all in. There was a metal circle in Anthony's chest, with blue lines thrumming within it. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie, like a prop, like it wasn't _real_ and if he reached out and touched it, he would find that there was no power. It was just a toy, it wasn't stuck in Anthony's chest, it wasn't keeping him alive. It couldn't be because this wasn't _possible_.

He looked up into brown eyes that were almost melting. "That-_that's_ keeping you alive?" He asked, his voice cracking from an amalgamation of awe and disbelief. And a little bit of uncertainty, perhaps.

Stark nodded. "If someone took it out of my chest, I'd been dead in ten, fifteen minutes- tops. Heart attack, y'know." He shrugged, his eyes still wild and still glued to Loki like they had been since he started talking.

Loki ran a hand back through his hair, feeling the comfort and familiarity of it's cool silk between his fingers. At a moment like this, Loki was his own anchor to reality and the hard, sometimes painful, truth. There was strength in knowing you were real, you were alive, you weren't bleeding or dying. At times, it was best to put things in perspective.

Loki reached out and gently ran his finger around the metal rim. It was warm and sent sparks of energy shooting up his arm. A shaky breath hissed in and out of his mouth.

"I-I don't expect anything of you, Loki." Stark's voice was low, almost inaudible. Loki looked up, brown eyes were averted and gazing over the blue-grey sky above. "You didn't sign up for this. And I understand if you don't want to stick around. I won't try to stop you if you get up and walk out. It's okay. I understand." His voice was dull, carefully devoid of emotion.

Loki smirked. "You didn't sign up for any of _my_ problems either, Anthony. Nobody ever volunteers for the bad sides of life." He leaned up to kiss the man on the cheek. "I'm just happy you're _alive_. And if this is what keeps you that way..." He bit his lip, inhaling machine oil, cigarette smoke, alcohol tainted _Anthony_. Brown eyes now so close that he could see lines of hazel and blue and green running through their irises. Muddy hair that curled around his face like feathers. This was the man he loved. Each and _every_ piece of him.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the arc reactor. Stark made a startled noise in the back of his throat when Loki's lips were immediately on his, pressing him back into the edge of the roof. Calloused fingers pushed his up into his hair, curling around it possessively. Everything was Anthony, _Anthony_, **Anthony**. Their lips lazily locked, their fingers gripping and holding tightly enough that no one could break them away, their bangs curling together in a perfect mix of ink and mud.

"We're going be _okay_, Anthony." He breathed, their lips still brushing together. He could feel warm breath tickling across his chin and lips.

"I know." Hands squeezed his waist, thumbs hooked around pelvic bones and pressing into his Adonis lines.

Loki was practically purring, because Stark's hands were moving all over him in _exactly_ the ways he wanted, landing precisely where he _needed_ them to. His breath hitched when Anthony pulled him into his lap, circling his arms around Loki's waist and running firm fingertips up his backbone. And he may have had just the _teensiest_ fetish, because it felt like electricity sparked under those calloused fingers. It didn't go unnoticed. A grin curled beneath his own lips, and a hand slipped under his shirt, fingers pressing up each vertebrae slowly. Loki growled, moving to attack Stark's neck with quick kisses and sharp, short bites.

His mind was in a haze, because he hadn't been this close or touched this way in too long. Since...the _unmentionable_. He hated him, hated his name, hated what he had _done_ to him. Loki had shut down and cut off all contact with humanity- after a short spurt of casual, one-night-stand, raged fucks. He had been animalistic, and it had been well-received. Considering the way his body was reacting, and the way Stark was starting to dig his nails into his skin, well- Loki hadn't lost his touch.

Fun Fact #14: Before Thanos- and, as aforementioned, _after_ Thanos, for a short time- Loki was incredibly active sexually. He saw no harm in getting his rocks off, as long as no one was emotionally involved and protection was used. Life is short, and pleasure rare. Might as well get it when and where and how you can.

"Loki?" Anthony's voice was breathy and ragged. Loki rolled his eyes back in his head, licking a rather dark bruise forming from his sharp, canine teeth.

"Mmm?" Like he was paying attention. -snort- _Hardly_. Loki tended to revert back to his former tendencies- or so he was finding- and go back to shutting down, turning everything off, and focusing on just letting pleasure flood his body.

"Where are you?" Hands encircled his shoulders, holding him back gently.

Gently. Someone was touching him _gently_. Anthony was holding him. Anthony wanted him. _Him_. Not just a body, not just something to fuck. It made his head spin. "I...I'm sorry. It's been a while since I did, er, _this_." He could practically _feel_ the confusion on his face.

Being _wanted_, it was a new experience.

"Let's go to my apartment." Anthony smiled prettily. Oh, gods, Loki's mental capacity has been diminished to one thought. And one only.

* * *

Tony pushed open the door, crowding Loki back, over the thresh-hold and into the apartment. Keys hit the floor, door kicked closed behind him, quickly pulling Loki's jacket (_his_, which he had 'left' at Loki's dorm a few weeks ago, and _yeah_, it gave him an immensely satisfied feeling to know _Loki_ was wearing it) down his arms and letting it drop to the floor. Guiding him into the bedroom with hands tight on his hips, and yes, Tony was about to lose his fucking mind because _hormones_ galore. But it was _more_ than that. It was what this meant. That Loki was his, really _his_, for real. This wasn't iffy, a maybe, a perhaps-in-the-future. No. This was _happening_. Right now.

And maybe that's the thought that made him stop, right as they fell onto the bed, bodies fitting together perfectly and Loki's hands tangled in his hair in a way that made him fucking crazy.

He was about to do it with a boy.

Like.

_A male._

The same gender as himself.

And yes, he had a boner, and yes he wanted to do this, but there was this little voice in his head chirping '_But this is gay! You're _straight_, Tony!_'. Of course, angel that he is, Loki noticed immediately and pulled back.

"What's wrong, love?" A thumb brushed his bangs back, off his forehead. The touch sent a soft promise through his skin and into his veins and pumped through his heart. _'I won't hurt you. This is okay. Forget everything, and I promise you'll never regret us.'_

"Nothing, I just..." He trailed off, rolling off Loki and onto his back. Light streamed through the window and hit his eyes. -squint-

"You're realizing what's happening." The saturnine teen sat up, shoving ruffled, feathery black tresses back. They were tangled and looked barbaric from the treatment Tony's fingers had mindlessly given them. He couldn't resist smiling. "I know it's," Loki's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "_Different_. New. A little scary." He chuckled. "But it doesn't _change_ you, Anthony." God he loved the sound of his name on those lips. "You're still _you_. And I'm sure you haven't lost your attraction to Playboy bunnies." A smirk played with bitten pink. "But you, the real you, hasn't changed at all. Nor will it if we have sex."

Tony stared up at him, taking in every inch of him. Perfect body, delicate face, pale skin, inky curls, curiously bitten nails, scars tracing up and down his forearms.

In .05 seconds flat, Tony had him pinned to the bed.

* * *

Loki was laughing. Tony knew that much. And yeah, his head was fucking pounding. But after a few minutes of that perfect sound- a hymn of the angels- he was pretty sure it would abate. The bed moved. His bed. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but his jeans still hugged his waist tightly. His underwear...were in a, er, _uncomfortable_ state. -cough cough-

"_Staaaark_." A pretty voice whispered, teasing. "Wakey, wakey, sunshine." And it all came flooding back.

_"Can I _please_ be let go, now? I need a shower. Or...**underwear**." Loki just sounded irritated. Tony loved it. _Loved_. His bitchy babe was back. _

_"No." He growled, cozying up to the seemingly boneless teenager beside him. Mmm, he smelled so good. All peppermint and winter and clean like ice._

_"Please?" Velleity colored his voice. _

_Tony grinned against a pale, wintry expanse of skin. He could feel the rumble of Loki's post-sex voice. Well, almost sex. _

_"No." He giggled, winding his arms even tighter around his boyfriend's ribcage. "What does this _mean_?" He murmured, feeling his mood shift from passive humor to arbitrary sobriety. _

_Loki shifted languidly in his arms. "I think...it means..." He ran a hand over his face. "I think it means we're...fixing each other." Oh, god _bless_ their avoidance of all things committal. _

_"'Fixing each other.'" He repeated softly. "I like it." He grinned, leaning up on one elbow and looking down into Loki's emerald-sea eyes. They glittered happily. Happy. Loki was happy._

He opened his eyes, blinking and grimacing against the light of day. Dear god, how long had they been sleeping. What was school. What was college. Did these things _exist_ in the orbit of Loki and Tony? I think _not_.

"What year is it?" He took in what he was looking at and laughed. "Oh my _god_. Your _hair_." He snickered. Loki arched an eyebrow that vowed retribution.

"It's _your_ fault. You and your wandering hands." He slapped at Tony when he reached for a long, kinky curl to pull. Green eyes tried to affect an unimpressed look. They failed. Because Loki was happy and Tony couldn't get over that _wondrous_ fact.

"I like it." He sat up, framing Loki's face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together. "I like _you_." He breathed, taking a moment to just inhale _Loki_. Because, really, even coffee can't beat the smell of winter in the morning. Especially when it's Winter-reincarnate in a lithe, sullen teenage boy who suddenly can't stop smiling.

"I like you too, you _silly_ man." Loki bumped their noses together, then pulled back. "It's the year 2013, and we're late for class. As in, _ridiculously_ _late_." Loki leapt off the bed, his t-shirt too big and his boxers too _long_- god damn it, Tony's got his mind in the gutter _again_. "Have you ever heard of an _alarm_ _clock_?" He smirked at Tony.

"No, what are those? They sound _heinous_." A t-shirt hit him in the face.

"Get dressed." A shirtless Loki. In Tony's apartment. In his bedroom. In front of him. To say his mind was wandering was probably the understatement of the year. "Anthony?" A hand waved in front of his face.

Snap back to reality. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm coming." He sluggishly dragged himself from bed as Loki made himself presentable- in _Tony's_ clothes. Yeah, he may have a thing for seeing the teeny tiny, way too tall teen in his clothes. Maybe because they were so _obviously_ his- did Loki even _own_ anything red?- or maybe it was just the feeling that Loki was finally so comfortable with him that he didn't hesitate to steal Tony's shit- although, let's face it, Loki's been doing this since the first time they went out, and that wasn't even a _date_-, or maybe it was just knowing Loki was _his_ that made everything so much more satisfactory.

He was sprawled across the living room floor when Loki bounced out, damp hair braided down his back- with just a few strands curling around his face too sexily to be real- and Tony's t-shirt hanging a good two inches above Loki's skinny jeans. -gulp- "Hey, there, sexy." He purred, jumping to his feet.

Loki looked at him with thinly veiled seduction. "We have to leave." Uh huh, keep this up and you ain't goin' _nowhere_, Loki.

"But, _Lo-Lo_, I wanna stay home and do bad, _bad_ things to you." Tony's voice had dropped to that low growl he reserved for those times he, uh, wanted, er, _things_.

A throaty giggle tickled his ears. "_No_. Let's go."

Then he was off, breezing out of the apartment, leaving Tony to merely follow with a lecherous grin and a wayward hand around Loki's waist.

* * *

**It's short. It's happy. Nothing to hate. Right? No? Wrong? Ok. **

**Pahlease review, my loves. Tell me if this is better, if you miss the angst, if someone else should get their ass whooped. And yeah, yeah, yeah, all shall be revealed in due time as far as Howard and Stane- although ya'll can probably guess what's gonna happen. **

**So much fluff. -horrified shiver-**

**Hope you enjoyed! *whispers* Review?**

**xoxox**

**P.S. I shall be answering your reviews soon. Sorry, I kind of fell down on the job, but...wow. Life. Man. Ya never know what's gonna happen next. **


	17. Chapter 17- The Past

**A/N: Guys. My last two chapters have sucked ass. I'm sorry. Shit's been pretty fucked around here. But I'm hoping to grind out the rest of these chapters in a far more fabulous and brilliant manner than previously. So forgive me, and have patience, because it's gonna take a bit longer than normal for me to get these chapters out. Also, I'm eventually going to go back and rewrite the past two chapters. Key word: 'Eventually'. Especially chapter 15. (I'm well aware it suuuuucked ass.)**

**Also, you might want to go back to chapter 14 and read anything about Thanos. Or, you can not. I did, and I wrote it. xD.**

**Thanks for your continued support. I appreciate each and every one of you beautiful people. **

**xoxox**

* * *

"Natasha!" Thor called out, seeing the fire-engine red head in front of him at the school library. A librarian glared at him, only to be ignored- Thor had bigger fish to fry.

The young Russian-American turned to face him, the smile on her face dimming to a pretty, but merely polite, ghost. "Hi, Thor." She waved, the man beside her turning. Clint. Thor barely hid his surprise. As far as he had known, Natasha hated the young, bubbly-but-melancholic archer. Not surprising, though, as he hardly kept up with who was with who these days.

"Have you heard from Loki?" Thor had been stonewalled by Loki for _days_. It wasn't like he could normally get ahold of him right away, but recently, the younger Odinson had at least been willing to _answer_ his text messages- even if they were unsatisfactorily one-worded. At this point, Thor would take what he could get.

She shrugged. "Sure, but he hasn't been..._around_ much." Clint snickered, only to cough uncomfortably when a pallid, pointy elbow rammed into his ribs. A satisfied smile played with Natasha's lips. Thor squirmed.

"Well, how is he?" He hated this. He hated not knowing exactly how is little brother is from his little brother's own mouth. Loki had _always_ come to him when something went wrong, or- far more rarely- when something went right. Now, he prayed it was the latter, that he was..._getting_ _along_ with Tony- even if Thor wasn't particularly comfortable with the relationship.

She smiled reassuringly. "Thor, he's _fine_. You need to stop worrying. Give him some space. You know how he is." She patted his shoulder, her elfin hand landing a manly, resounding smack. It felt like something from one of his football buddies. He eyed her curiously.

"Thanks, Natasha." Thor smiled gratefully at her, glancing at a rather distracted Clint. They seemed like an odd couple in his opinion, but, then again, Natasha Romanoff had never been quite so calm and _human_. Not to mention, she wasn't glaring at him like she'd ram a pencil through his eyeball if he so much as _looked_ at Loki wrong.

"Thor?" A deep, vaguely familiar voice boomed behind him.

He turned, still smiling, to greet whomever it was that recognized him.

His smile faded instantaneously.

* * *

A knock rapped at the door urgently. Tony looked up, covered in soot from a, er, explosiony-backired-plan-gone-wrong type of incident. Oopsies. The kitchen was as covered, as he was, in a thin film of black. Really, he was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong- other than having, y'know, adult ADHD that hadn't been curbed by medication in months- because, all the calculations had been right. Right-_ish_. It was really still in the hypothesis stage.

He grabbed a blackened rag off the engine suspended in the kitchen and ran for the door. A worried blond giant stood on the flip-side, looking a disheveled mess.

"Is Loki here?" His voice was strained, and blue eyes were _wild_.

Tony snapped to attention. "No. Whoa, buddy, why don't you come in for a minute." He grabbed the bicep of the tilting man- and really, Tony wasn't sure how he felt about the man having muscles bigger than his fucking head. What were they _feeding_ this guy?- and led the man inside. Thor flopped heavily on a couch. Tony sat in the middle of his coffee table Indian-style, and wiped his hands clean- okay, _less_ dirty; is there _really_ a difference?- and studied Thor. "Loki's in class right now. You _know_ that. So, what's up?"

Thor shot forward in his seat, nearly startling Tony into falling off his perch. "Thanos is here."

Now, Tony hadn't yet gotten the balls to ask about the mysterious Thanos. He was pretty sure that asking that question would either start a shit-storm the size of Hurricane Katrina, or, turn Loki into a depressed little ball of melancholy and kitten-fluffy bedhead. Neither was something he wanted to kickstart with Loki being _so_ happy. It was even starting to rub off on Tony- ahem, not that he wasn't _already_ happy with having Loki spending the night on the weekends and eating dinner with him and watching late night TV with him pretty much every day. They're both just enjoying each other and life and it was perfect enough and uneventful enough that Tony had fairly forgotten the whole Thanos enigma.

"Wait, what do you mean?" Nevertheless, despite his lack of information about the situation, red sirens were whirring in his head. Thanos was here, and this was _bad_. His hackles were rising.

"He..." Thor sighed, scrubbing his wary expression with two, big, quarterbacker hands. "He's enrolled here, Tony. He's going to be staying here. For _three_ _years_." Blue eyes looked at him in despair.

Tony's mind was sprinting through ideas and possibilities and the conversations he'd had with Thor about this person before. It was fairly easy to assume that Thanos had hurt Loki. Pretty much everyone Loki had ever known had hurt him- or so it seemed, in recent years, anyhow. And, judging by the kicked-dog look on Thor's face and the watery blue eyes, Thor couldn't stop this from happening again. Or, if he could, he couldn't without Loki's permission.

Tony's brain was starting to hurt.

"Did this Thanos dude hurt Loki?" He rubbed his face, eyeing Thor through the cracks between his fingers. The smell of burnt _something_ attacked his nose.

Thor sighed, slouching back into his seat. "Yes. Two years ago." Blue eyes studied Tony carefully. "Did you ask him about..._that_?" The caution mixed with danger in Thor's eyes was starting to alarm Tony- the man was twice his size. If he decided to go at Tony for some reason, well, then Loki'd need to start on Tony's eulogy.

"No. He's so..._happy_, Thor. I couldn't ruin that." Tony was fairly positive that Thor knew precisely what he meant. Loki's emotions were fragile, to say the _least_. The slightest thing could send the boy spiraling from cloud-nine high happy, to seventh-circle of hell misery. Tony preferred the first much more than the latter. He _loved_ when Loki was light-hearted and happy and playfully bitchy all the time. He had gotten accustomed to tickling the boy awake and kissing him to sleep every night and having that pretty, tenuous laugh in his ears all day while Loki made fun of him in his lab.

Thor nodded understandingly. It was like, for once, there was some sort of arcane secret between them about Loki. Like, maybe Thor had gone through _exactly_ what Tony was going through, and maybe it wasn't such a leap to find that one day- if Loki accepted the big brute who wanted so desperately to be his big brother- they could be friends. Maybe Tony didn't have as much to fear as he had once thought. Not that he'd forget what he had done to Loki- he still saw that replayed through his dreams- but maybe, he could learn to be cordial and kind.

"It was a _bad_ time, Tony. Loki..." Thor looked down at his hands helplessly. Tony fidgeted anxiously. "Loki changed after that. He became unstable and unhappy." Thor sighed. "It was all _my_ fault. I should have known that Thanos wasn't good for him. I knew who he was and how he treated the women he was with. But, like now, Loki seemed so _happy_. He seemed like their relationship was perfect, but it wasn't real. And I _knew_ that. I could see it in his eyes when he was just being himself and not talking about..._him_." He shook his head. "But I didn't do _anything_. I just, sat by and let him get hurt." Tony felt his fingers clenching into a tight fist. "He never actually told me exactly what happened. I'm sure there's a lot I don't know about what happened. But, Thanos beat him. Loki was put in the hospital for three broken ribs and undernourishment." Tears were accumulating in Tony's eyes. "Thanos had been '_abusing_' him for months. But I never saw a bruise on him. So, I'm not sure what he meant, and he looked so breakable, I was afraid to ask him to tell me anything more than what he wanted." Thor dropped his face into his hands. "Then I saw Thanos earlier today. He asked me where Loki was. He asked about you, although I have no idea how he found out about you two." Thor looked up, locking their eyes together fervently. "He's _dangerous_, Tony."

A shiver ran down Tony's spine. "I have to get Loki. Stay here." He ordered. "Don't move. He needs to hear this from _you_, Thor, his big brother." And then he was sprinting out the door and towards the campus.

* * *

Loki glared at his professor with disdain. If there was one thing he had intolerance for, it was arrogant men who thought they knew _everything_. Which, to be honest, he was a bit guilty of himself. Nevertheless, this man knew less than anything- in Loki's opinion- and he couldn't fathom how the man had gotten through college himself, let alone gotten a job as a professor. Giving up on trying to make the ignoramus' head ignite with his bare glare, he glanced down at his notebook. It almost made him cringe to see the blank page. In any other class, it would be filled to the brim with precise notes and diagrams and even a drawing or two. But here, the page was barren, like a desert. Cue an over-dramatic, diva sigh.

Gnawing on his pencil for a moment, he looked out across the campus. It was a beautiful day, really. He wished he had stayed at Anthony's apartment, skipped class for the day. His handsome beau had even mentioned driving to the beach. It was perfect weather for a walk across the sand, feeling the water lap at his toes and Stark's fingers between his. With a groan, he dropped his head into his hands. When had anything become _better_ than learning?

Slowly, he started doodling on his cringe-worthy blank paper. Within a few minutes, he realized he was sketching Anthony. In cat form. A surprised giggle slipped past his lips, making a few surrounding classmates look at him in thinly veiled shock. Cue a very irascible, misanthropic glare for each and every one of those mewling quims he unfortunately had to spend time every day with. (Loki's a _fun_ person, really, he just doesn't like humans. Put him in a room with a tiger, a boa constrictor, and a gator, and he'll have three new friends. Put him in a room with a bunch of people, and he's gonna run out screaming in .05 seconds flat.)

Fun Fact #15: Loki _loves_ to draw. And he's extremely talented in it. Art was always one of his favorite classes- mostly because the instructor let him do whatever he wanted. And he received accolades from all his instructors through high school and in private classes Frigga got him when he graduated. It was a part of him that he had lost not long after the unspeakable happened with Thanos, and when he thought back, it was the part of him that he had truly missed most.

When Thanos walked out of that apartment, Loki realized he had allowed the man to take a big bunch of his most lovable traits out the door with him. Loki had lost his compassion, his empathy, his creativity, his _humanity_. He had lost his physical comfort with not _only_ himself- although the man had already demolished that throughout their relationship- but with the rest of the surrounding world, as well. And until Stark had come into his life, there had been a wall between those pieces of himself that seemed to be missing, and he himself. It hadn't been until that screwed up, wrecked, completely intolerable human being walked into his life that he was able to slowly find himself again.

Loki looked down at Kitty-Tony and smiled gratefully. Yet another part of his soul had been restored by the man with a crooked grin and addictions out the ass and daddy-issues that even rivaled his own. Maybe they were finding themselves in the _worst_ parts of each other. Maybe they were just so screwed up that they were both inspired by the worst in each other. Was that _wrong_? Was that _unhealthy_? Loki was pretty sure it was but he found that he really didn't care. He felt more _alive_ than he had in two years and it was all because of Stark. It was all because of his Anthony. His boy. His _love_.

"Class dismissed." A dull, humdrum, everyday voice intoned through his flying thoughts. He looked up, a little startled by the buzz of leaving-class, lets-get-the-fuck-outta-here noise that accompanied the ending of class.

Belatedly, he grabbed his things, stuffing his notebook and pencil into his backpack and dodging through the crowd to slip out the door- just another tall, skinny, malnourished teen of the bunch. He was very unique, but he wasn't dissimilar to the rest. He felt like he was dull and unnoticeable and indiscernible Maybe Anthony was changing that view of himself, because now, when he looked in the mirror, he didn't see Loki Odinson- screwed up, scared, tiny- he saw Loki Laufeyson- Anthony's boyfriend, lover, smiling, happy. When had he ever seen such extraordinary things in his own reflection?

"Loki Odinson. Well, I'll be damned." A voice sounded behind him the moment he caught a glimpse of racing red and flying muddy brown. A chill ran up his back as his eyes locked on chocolate brown irises that were faintly frantic. Desperation coursed through him, because all he wanted- no, **_needed_**- was to run, to get caught by muscular arms that would save him from this. But he _couldn't_, because he had always vowed to himself that he wouldn't back down from _him_ any longer.

He spun, fierce determination dwindling in his chest the moment brown hair and crystal blue eyes snapped into view. "Thanos." A curt nod jerked his neck. _Ow_. Emotional pain flared through him like arthritis in his joints on a cold day.

A warm being grabbed him from behind. Sharp fingers held him with tight compassion. "Loki?" A haggard, ragged voice breathed against his ear.

_Anthony_.

Warm, sweet, compassionate, adorable Anthony. An anchor, something to hold him tight, something to keep his feet on the ground and his heart beating. _Anthony_. He loved Anthony. He loved him with every cell of his body and every dying ounce of faith and hope in him. Anthony was his light at the end of the tunnel, but it was getting harder to see that light, even with his hands holding him and his warmth on his back-seeping through the jacket he had stolen from the inventor which smelled of _him_, his sweat and hard work and the motor oil that tainted his hands black and brown- and the smell of his spicy cologne permeating his senses.

"Hi." He murmured, leaning back into this suddenly phantasmagorical illusion of happiness all bundled into a tiny human in a red t-shirt and destroyed jeans and black stained face. "What happened to your face?" He smiled, a faltering attempt at adoration.

"I blew up the kitchen." Suddenly, the despair morphed into sheepishness and apology- because we all know Anthony won't be the one cleaning up that mess (especially not with Loki quickly turning into a fidgeting mass of anxiety with Thanos staring at his back like he can pierce through his skin and into his soul with that clear blue gaze).

"Good job, love." Loki smiled again, trying his hardest not to seem as wrecked as he was.

"Who're you?" Thanos' demanding voice made Loki jolt like he'd been hit by lightning.

Stark's fingers went rigid around Loki's hips. It was suddenly two years ago and Loki's looking into the eyes of a murderer who wants nothing more than to slowly but surely rip Thanos apart piece-by-piece until he's screaming for god to kill him. Who wants to tear him apart and feed him to the wolves. Who wants to flay his skin and burn him alive. Who wants to just rend apart this being who's tortured the one he loves. And Loki _hates_ it. He hates seeing that look in first Thor's and now Anthony's eyes. Because it's _his_ fault. Because he knew when he began seeing Thanos that, one day, it would come to this. And not for the first time, Loki realizes no man is an island, even when it comes to personal pain and anguish. And as much as he hates Thor, he wants to say he's sorry for turning him into a homicidal monster- because god knows, even he couldn't get the blond to leave Thanos be. He remembered seeing Thanos the day after he got out of the hospital, seeing the fear on the handsome face when blue eyes locked with Thor's and saw the promised retribution there.

"I'm Tony. Who the _fuck_ are you?" The threat in Stark's voice wasn't wasted on Thanos.

"Thanos. Loki's ex." Nails were starting to pierce Loki's skin, but he didn't mind. He didn't mind this effigy of Stark's love. Loki was never as sure of love as he was when it was painted onto his skin by carmine colored lifeblood. Just as he was never as sure of hatred as he was when it was shown on his pallor in black and blue. Funny how red seemed to portray love, and black painted the picture of hate.

"I've heard about you." Anthony's voice was more a growl, and Loki was stricken by how he sounded like a wolf. Bloodthirsty and unquestionably alpha.

"All good, I hope." Thanos' eyes connected with Loki's, commination a promise, threat prominent. Loki's world started to shudder- or were his muscles now taken over by the fear and shock and inner death he was experiencing?- and everything seemed to shatter and blur. Stark's hands were the only thing keeping him upright.

"**No**." Anthony sounded ready to pounce on Thanos and rip his jugular out. Loki was physically shaking now, because if Stark got in one more fight with someone who had tortured him emotionally, he might just die of horror. He hated how Stark protected him, and loved it all the same.

Thanos' face hardened. "I don't know what you've heard, but I assure you, I've _never_ harmed Loki." Oh, god, he's about to faint. Loki's whole world is shattering right now, because, dear god, what if Anthony _believes_ him? What if that charisma that had once captured his heart, takes Anthony's by storm? What if Thanos takes away just one more irreplaceable piece of his soul- that magnetic piece that has attracted all those ripped shards that he had lost? What if Loki _lost_ Anthony to Thanos?

What would he do?

How would he go on?

Would he even survive?

Loki had known if he saw Thanos again, he wouldn't get through it. And now, with Anthony by his side, he was beginning to realize just how accurate that idea had been.

* * *

A/N: **Short, angsty, cliff-hanger. Just the way I like it. **

**Hopefully this is an improvement on the past two chapters.**

**Please let me know.**

**I really want this to be better.**

**And yeah, my life is...UGH. So, chapters might be a little longer coming these days. Anyways, I'm like in this twilight-zone of numbness between happy and spiraling into misery- so...yeah. Inspiration isn't easy to come by right now. Bear with me. **

**REVIEW. Tell me what's good. Tell me what's bad.**

**I need y'all beautiful people's input here. I'm lost. I NEED A LIGHT TO GUIDE ME.**

**Too dramatic? Yeah? Ok.**

**I LOVE YOU ALLLLLLL. **

**xoxox**

**Love, Rayn.**


	18. Chapter 18- No Matter What

**A/N: The song is No Matter What by Papa Roach.**

* * *

_Loki looked over, smiling in the blue reflected off the tears on his face. Silent and sad, he inched forward between cool sheets, aligning his body with that warm form sprawled across the bed. The last day and a half spun through his head as cool metal thrummed warmly in front of his face. Anthony's heart, bared only for him in the darkness of midnight- it was something he could depend on, something he could trust._

_If Loki knew one thing for certain, it was that Anthony Edward Stark had a heart._

* * *

_ ~36 hours earlier~ _

Tony was inflamed and bared and every breath of breeze across his burning skin felt like an ice bath to his nerves. He felt combustible and explosive- like if Thanos kept looking at Loki like he were just a _thing_, a _toy_, he might lose it entirely and murder the young man where he stood. Knowing that this person- no, he wasn't even _human_- had hurt his love...Tony wasn't sure he could stay sane.

And then there were Loki's big green eyes looking at him as if he were the last thing Loki believed in. Tony had _never_ been looked at that way. Tony had never been anyone's only hope. He'd never been the last rope to cling to. And he'd never been so afraid of failure, of letting someone down, of not being exactly what someone else needed. He wanted to strip Loki's defenses away and hold him tightly and tell him it was going to be okay. He wanted to promise that this wouldn't hurt him again, even if it was a bold-faced lie because he _needed_ it. Loki needed someone to see him with his every defense down, and tell him he was still beautiful. And Tony _knew_ this. He saw it in little vulnerable glimpses of this quiet, misanthropic teenager who'd been so scarred by life that he was a gothic _[1]_ masterpiece of pain and bitterness and all the things that were wrong with humanity. And damn, he was _beautiful_ to Tony.

And then there was Thanos, standing between him and Loki and their happiness. And in Tony's eyes, he was an albatross. That was the thing. See, Tony _hates_ obstacles. Tony obliterates obstacles. It's probably the one and only reason he's done so well and become the genius his father has touted him as all these years- if something stands in his way, it has a very short life ahead of it and needs to go shopping for a coffin or urn or something. And really, if he's being honest, Tony really wanted Thanos blown up like his smoldering kitchen.

"I don't know what you've heard," Cold blue eyes glared Loki down, until he was pressing back into Tony's chest like a cowering puppy. "But I assure you, I've _never_ harmed Loki." Sometimes, Tony believed he was a fairly mellow, level-headed man. This was _not_ one of those times. And if it hadn't been for Loki's practically quaking form against his firebranded skin, Tony probably would've strangled Thanos.

Loki's eyes were burning into his face, but he didn't look down. He stared at Thanos until the man met his gaze. Then everything inside him hardened into a cold block of ice so impenetrable, that it scared even him. "Somehow, I doubt that. And I can _promise_ you something, man, you _don't_ want to mess with Loki. I will rip your head off and feed it to my dad's dobermans if you do. That is not a threat. _It's a promise_." Every muscle in his body was tensing, ready to jump to action if need be- although by now Loki was practically hanging on him and shivering and he was really fucking terrified for the boy because Loki didn't do _this_. Loki never had a meltdown or lost his hard exoskeleton or lost his ire. Loki was _impregnable_. But this guy did something to his boy that even Odin and Thor couldn't.

_He broke Loki_.

And for that, Tony wanted to shred him to pieces.

* * *

"I need a drink." Were the first four words out of his mouth when he saw Thor sitting on Anthony's couch. Because, yeah, I think we all know that even though he's _somewhat_ recovered from the confrontation with Thanos- leaving the slightly older brunet a stuttering, shell-shocked former rapist- having to deal with all the immense emotional turmoil of Thor being in his boyfriend's god damn living room...well, suffice to say, alcoholic therapy sounded like a pretty damn good idea.

Anthony sighed, nodding and trudging into the kitchen to get god-knows-what from god-knows-where. Loki's eyes followed him out of the room, a frown tugging on his mouth. Stark looked wrung out and tired. He looked exhausted and old. If the youthful, goatee-ed man looked weary already, Loki shuddered at the hot mess he must look. Honestly, he doesn't even care- what? Loki? Doesn't care about how he looks? Will wonders never cease?- right now, he just wants to...breathe? Think? Survive yet another travesty in his super-duper fucked-up existence.

But, the worst part of it all, is, he actually might be happy. Well, around the numbness and shaky hands and terrific headache- Loki's _almost_ smiling. And that horrified him. _Why_ in all the nine realms would he, Loki Laufeyson, be happy that his abusive ex-boyfriend is back in his life- in a roundabout, shocking, completely unforeseeable way? Why? Does he have some sort of tumor in his brain? Or has he just completely lost _all_ his motherfucking marbles once and for all?

Fun Fact #16: Loki's been _positive_ he was crazy for a long time, now. It was nothing new. But, he'd been tested, and come out fairly clean- excepting some traces of 'likelihood to have an eating disorder or other mental disorder.' -snort- No shit, Sherlock.

_"Loki, do you remember when we first met?" Thanos was smiling at him from across the table. Loki couldn't stop smiling back. His rather volatile, violent boyfriend was in such a good mood, and Loki had _no_ fucking clue why. But, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth._

_He thought back, letting his eyes run across the tablecloth. It was soft silk under his fingertips, and pretty rosey patterns drew their way along under his studious eyes. "Yes, I met you at one of dad's parties, right?" Oh, the innocence in his voice. It made him smile, because he knew just how much Thanos adored that last trace of purity. A purity the young man was taking away, inch by excruciating inch. Is it ever an easy or painless process to lose one's innocence? Loki thought not._

_Thanos smirked prettily, pink lips curling soft and curvaceous. The lithe, tall young man leaned on his elbows, putting him and Loki nearly nose to nose. His crystal blue eyes were twinkling like stars. Loki's heart skipped a lovestruck, smitten beat. "No, no, darling. The first time we met was two years ago, at Thor's graduation party. I was there, but," He looked down and blushed, shamelessly flirting when he looked up at Loki under long dark eyelashes. Oh, god, he was_ devastating._ Loki had_ long_ ago forgotten what breathing was. "You were just_ so stunning_ that night. I was afraid to approach you, or talk to you, or do anything but wave awkwardly when Thor introduced us. You got so wasted that night, so, it's not surprising you don't remember." He winked a sky-blue eye and they both laughed._

_"I actually vaguely remember that." Loki giggled. "It's hazy, but I remember you. You were beautiful then. I had the biggest crush on you." It was his turn to blush. "You were half the reason I got so drunk. I wanted to say something to you, but I was so worried about what Thor would do if he found out I was gay." Loki shook his head and bit his lip, averting his eyes from the piercing gaze that stopped his heartbeat. "I was smitten by you, but I felt like my hands were tied." _

_Thanos' soft fingers wrapped around his chin with_ rare_ gentleness. His touch was almost as tender as the look on his face. One area Thanos was not lacking any compassion in, was when it came to their sexual preference. They'd both been mistreated for their orientation. For Loki, it had come primarily from his father- constantly berating him for not being manly enough, for not being enough like Thor, the family warrior and your typical American male who was brainwashed to believe 'real men' didn't cry or read or care about being even vaguely literate. Thanos was a different story, though. He had grown up in boys boarding schools where no one got suspended because their dads owned half the world. He'd gotten his fair share of beatings when someone had leaked the 'secret' that he was into dicks instead of vaginas. After that, life had gotten rough, and Thanos had been on the receiving end of more homophobic beatings than he ever wished to remember._

_"Loki, don't let them dictate your love. Love who you love, baby. Especially if you love me." He winked again, drawing a watery smile from Loki. He almost couldn't get over how different Thanos was, how...sweet and affectionate. It was like he was a completely different man for the night._

_Too bad, it only lasted for the rest of the meal. _

_On the way home, he got a black eye and a bruised lip before being shoved into bed by hard, uncaring fists. _

Loki visibly flinched at the memory. A dull ache throbbed in the small of his back and the lowest edges of his stomach. A glass with his favorite vodka mix was placed in front of him, and calloused yet gentle fingers swept a strand of black out of his face. "You okay?" Stark's big brown eyes were focused on him with concern.

He smiled shakily and nodded. Then he locked eyes with Thor, who was a fidgety blond giant on Anthony's suddenly _small_ leather couch. "_Well_, what do you want?" His voice was hard with practiced disdain. Contempt was not hard to come by when you were Loki Laufeyson, but today, he just didn't have the stamina to actually work up any kind of bitterness or self-righteousness. The fabricated version would have to do for this dramatic production.

Hel, he can't lose his reputation as a catty diva, now can he?

* * *

Thor had nearly forgotten the sensation of Loki's molten green eyes _burning_ through his soul like it was mere hay and rubble. How long had it been since their father told Loki he was adopted? Thor still regretted _everything_ he had allowed his father to get away with. Odin deserved to be behind bars, he knew that much. But since he was young, he had been taught that you didn't rat out your family- while simultaneously being made to believe that Loki was a loose cannon and needed to be reported on and snitched on every time he did the _slightest_ thing wrong.

A heavy sigh heaved his chest. When he exhaled, he felt his body literally fold in on itself. "Loki, I...I saw Thanos today." Loki stiffened measurably. Tony looked like he was about to have a panic attack behind the raven-haired teen. "He asked about you, and Tony." He nodded his head towards the anxious engineer. "I think...I mean, I _doubt_ his intentions are pure." Thor bit his lip, then leaned forward, making Loki sink back further into his seat and clutch his vodka closer to his chest. "Loki, _please_ stop shutting me out. Please. I can help you with this. I know what Odin did was wrong, and I know I hurt you, and I'm so _so_ sorry. But Loki, please, _please_ stop this. Let me help you. I'll keep Odin away from you. I _get_ it now." Thor's word vomit tumbled past his lips in a desperate rush that wasn't unlike every other time he had _begged_ for Loki's forgiveness in the past seventeen years.

He watched emerald transform from shock to icy bitterness. Loki pushed him back, standing to his feet in a magnificently angry, graceful move. "You get it _now?_ Thor, I have been telling you _exactly_ what's been going on every time it happened! You were _there_ the first time he hit me! You're going to keep him away _now? **Ha!"**_ He scoffed, shaking his head vehemently and sending inky hair flying about his face. "Thor, you _should've_ been doing that for the past decade and a half. You can't help me. And even if you could, I don't _want_ your help." The venom dripping from his lips seemed to be making it's way through Thor's system. Everything was slowing to a murky, dense pace. The world was spinning slowly, and Loki's face warped before him.

"I just want you to _forgive_ me, Loki! I'm still your _brother,_ no matter how many times you deny it!" Thor stood, as well, towering over his little brother and making Tony straighten and fasten his eyes on Thor threateningly. "I will _always_ be your brother, Loki, whether you accept it or not."

Loki laughed, throwing his hands in the air. "You think because you say '_I'm sorry, Loki_' that everything is just going to be all fine and forgotten?" The pallid boy was starting to sound a little high-pitched and stressed. It was like deja vu. "You _broke_ three of my ribs, god _damn_ it!" Loki started pacing, running spidery fingers through tangled pitch tresses. "You cannot just _waltz_ back in here, when my god damn _abusive_ ex decides to drop in for a nice, three year long _howdy-fucking-do,_ and decide to try to be a motherfucking _brother_ for once!" Loki's eyes were stabbing his angrily. Thor felt his heart break a bit at the rage and brokenness in his little brother.

"Loki, that isn't how I meant it to be. I've been trying to get a hold of you for _weeks!"_ Thor pleaded, feeling the tears in his eyes start to collect. "I've called you and called you and texted and you never answer anymore!" He was shaking because he didn't understand any of this and yet it all hurt so _deeply._ Thor and emotions didn't mix, and this...this was a fucking cauldron of smoldering, ruinous emotions that his little brother had been feeling and saving up for years. This was a decade old heartache. For _both_ of them.

Loki's face lost its ferocity. He shook his head slowly, dropping his eyes to the floor, long curls falling over his shoulders as a kind of protective veil for his expressionless face. Thor gulped. "Thor, had you considered that I was ignoring those calls because I wasn't _ready_ to talk? Had you thought about giving me _time_ to forgive you, instead of once again assuming that the _world_ revolves around _you?_ I cannot just snap my fingers and forgive you for what you did, and I _refuse_ to overlook what happened. When I want to talk to you, I will inform you. But until then, I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you. I don't want you to call or text or email or send me a letter in the mail. I want you out of my life, until I so decide to let you back in. _If_ I decide to let you back in. You cannot help me, Thor, you are _not_ my big brother, nor my knight in shining armor." His voice was soft, but that bitter poison was still very much present. The tears in Thor's eyes started to fall down his face. "Now, leave."

With a heart almost heavy enough to drag him down, _down, **down**_ into the earth's very core, Thor left the apartment. It was almost too much to bear to think of how angry his little brother was towards him- because Loki had _always_ been a part of his heart. Loki had always been Thor's little brother, since the moment those baby green eyes had locked on his, and Loki had flashed a toothless smile his way. Thor had been wrapped around Loki's finger since that very moment, and white teenage hands had wrapped around his heart too tightly to withstand as they became teenagers. Whatever Loki wanted, he _got._

But there was a darker force in Thor's life that was even _stronger_ than Loki. Even more manipulative and fiendish. And that was his father. Senator Odin Odinson, who had taught him to be a soldier, a warrior, who had taught him to obey command without _question._ And he had, for _too long._ Now, it was time for Loki to be safe, for Loki to have the upper hand, for Loki to win the war. As much as Thor loved his father, Odin had crossed an _unforgivable_ line when he had instructed Thor to break his brother's ribs- just as the man he had slept with and loved two years ago had. Thor had _known_ it was wrong, his very heart balked at just the _idea,_ and it rended itself in two as he broke down the boy he had loved as only a brother can for seventeen years.

Now, Thor would walk through _fire_ to get his brother to let him back into his life.

He might even betray his commanding officer.

His father.

* * *

Tony let his eyes close heavily as he lay on the couch with Loki, feeling the boy move to rest his head over the arc reactor. Fingers twined through his, pulling their intertwined hands between them as Loki nestled close to him. He loved that feeling, even with the interminable sorrow in the moment. The heat Loki brought along with a goose-bump chill that spread from his spine throughout his whole body every time Loki touched him. He wouldn't give this up for the world. This love unlike anything he had ever felt before.

"Thank you, Anthony, for being by my side today." His voice sounded kitty-cat sleepy. Tony let himself draw stained and scarred fingers through Loki's thick black curls. It felt like rough silk against his skin.

"Where else would I be?" He murmured, feeling to the depths of his being exactly how much verity rang through that statement.

_"Oh,_ Stark, don't say things like that." Loki whispered in a cracked voice. Tony frowned and looked down at the little being that had curled in on its long limbs and pulled itself into a tiny ball at his side. He realized _exactly_ what Loki meant, a little belatedly.

"But it's the _truth,_ Loki. The truth deserves its day as much as a lie." He murmured, wrapping strong arms around the bony boy. "You _know_ I'm being honest, you _know_ it's okay to trust me, so why won't you? Why won't you take me at my word, love?" Of course, Tony's doing that thing where you ask a question you already know the answer to, because he knows Loki's running. Loki is scared shitless of this, just like he is. The thought both comforts and scares him.

Loki looked up at him with swimming green eyes, drowning in a sea of salty tears. "Because no one ever _means_ stuff like that. Not even the people who are _supposed_ to mean it, and be there, and stick around. I've trusted so many people, and it was always the wrong decision. Always." He shook his head, pulling away from Tony and sitting Indian style on the couch beside him. Tony reached over to brush his wayward hair out of his face. "I _want_ to trust you- to commit and love me and be here with me forever- but I cant. I know better by now. I can't." He shook his head, burying his face in his hands miserably.

Tony's heart ached.

He knew he couldn't do those things faithfully. He knew he wouldn't be able to commit, because there was too much booze and science and pain in the world for _either_ of them to be steadfast and unwavering. But somehow, that's why they worked, because everything was loose and easy...until something tragic happened (in other words, like every other day). Yet, hearing Loki say he couldn't trust him broke a little piece of him inside. Something he hadn't even known he had. Something like a spare part to his heart, that screw that really _didn't_ belong with all the rest of the parts. That extra piece that had been put away because Tony didn't _want_ anyone to have faith in him or trust him or care about him, not _really._ But _now,_ now there was someone he wanted to _love_ him. Now that piece fit in with all the rest. And now it was broken, shattered, destroyed by a few words by a boy who didn't even want to hurt him, who had never _wanted_ anything. Who hadn't even wanted this screwed-up, halfway working relationship.

"I'm not everyone else, Loki. I _care._ I want to commit. There's just so..." He looked away, gazing out the window into the dark, stormy skies overshadowing the city. "There's so much I can't get past by _myself."_ Adderall. Alcohol. PTSD. The thing in his chest that kept his heart from being shredded to pieces by shrapnel.

Loki was staring at him, he could feel it. What was he thinking? Did he hate Tony for how he was? For his addictions that were fucking up their world so much more than necessary? Did he love him, for trying to be there and protect him when he needed it? Did he want to leave? Did he want to stay? For all the questions in Tony's mind, there were so _few_ answers.

"Let me help you, Anthony." That rough, worn voice sounded like heaven to his ears.

That plea sounded like hell. Because it would mean he had to actually try to get past everything that clouded his head just enough to _protect_ him from the harsh reality. If he wanted Loki, he had to give up a big chunk of who he was- even if that part of him was the _worst_ part. And that idea _scared_ him. What if he changed? What if he was dull without his cavorting drunkenness or his brilliant drugged scientific ideas or his scary traumatic nightmares? Would he be less interesting, less attractive? Would he still have the same personality, if all his addictions were taken away?

* * *

Loki stared up at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the little dots that perforated it. It was grey, like the night changing to dawn. A little light came from the living room, where Anthony was getting some water for them. This nightmare that had awoken the watery-eyed engineer had scared them both. And there was _nothing_ in the world Loki hated more than Anthony Stark on the verge of tears. Judging by how long it was taking the man to get a simple glass of water, Loki guessed his boyfriend knew that.

He sat up, sighing and dropping his face into the cradle of his long hands. He could smell Stark on them, his cologne ghosting through every aspect of Loki's life, even his own skin. On the days after he had stayed the night, the smell clung to his skin and clothes from being nearby when Anthony sprayed it on in the morning. It was like Stark went with him _everywhere,_ and the thought comforted him a bit. He wondered if it would make him feel safe, even when Thanos' eyes shadowed him across campus? Would _anything_ make him feel secure anymore? Would Anthony's _presence_ even calm him?

It was hard to reconcile with the realization that Thanos had found him. After two years of freedom and healing, the wounds left by the young man had been ripped open. Every nerve felt this laceration break wide open when he saw those crystalline eyes land on him, igniting his body like he'd been lit on fire- a feeling he remembered almost nightly in his dreams. But this hurt, _inside_ and _out._ It hurt to remember every abusive word and action, to remember the fists that hammered his body till he was sobbing so hard his lungs couldn't take in another breath. Then, there was the time when he'd had to beg Thanos to stop, _stop, **stop!**_ He hadn't been able to walk right for a _week._

He clutched his pillow to his chest tightly. Where was Anthony? Anxiety was building in his chest like the Empire State Building had taken up residence right beside his heart. Tears started to well up faster than he could sniff them back. Were nights merely for the demons to come and torment him and Stark? What had happened to partying and sloppy, drunken kisses- that he claimed he hadn't meant, but really, _really_ did- and heart to hearts that left them both a bit of a hot mess, but relieved to have _finally_ told someone that something that had broken them to little pieces?

"Lo-Lo, I think-" Stark stopped and squinted at him in the darkness. "Are you crying? What's wrong?" He was bundled tightly in strong arms before he could blink. A kiss was planted against the side of his head firmly; he chuckled through tears.

"Yeah." He wiped the wetness off his cheeks with a loose sleeve. "You'd think that eventually, the tears would run out. No such luck." He shrugged against Anthony's chest, then curled close to him and his warmth. Loki always felt cold and Anthony was like a high-powered heater just for him.

The inventor pulled him under the blanket with him, holding him flush against his chest. Loki wrapped lanky arms around his neck, burying his nose against a chest with blue glaring at him in the darkness. "It's okay, Loki. Cry. No one could blame you for that." As usual, Anthony realized that it wasn't the tears in themselves that bothered Loki- it was the fact that he'd been taught all his life that '_big boys don't cry_'. And somehow, it had stuck with him, it had been engraved onto his mind and burned into his psyche so _deeply,_ he almost couldn't get past it. Whenever Loki cried, it made him feel ashamed. Even though he knew that was wrong, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't move on past it. Every hurtful word his father had ever said to make him feel shame had stuck with him through the years, clinging to him like a parasite.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut so tightly, that little fireworks blazed against his eyelids.

_"Don't cry, Loki, dad'll get so mad!" Thor's chubby fingers held his shoulders so tightly, it made more tears accumulate in his eyes._

_"Shut up, Thor! I don't care!" Loki whined, shoving his older, bigger brother away. He wiped away tears with a dirt-stained shirtsleeve. _

_"I do! Now, stop it!" Thor yelled, getting red in the face._

_Loki scowled. "Stop ordering me around. Just because you're older doesn't mean you're the boss, y'know." He groused. Stupid Thor and his stupid sergeant bullshit- yeah, seven year old's cuss. -snort-_

_Thor stomped up to him. "Yes, it does. Daddy said so." He planted his meaty fists on his hips. "Stop crying, baby." He sneered, stabbing a finger against Loki's frail chest._

_"Go away, Thor. I want to go back inside." Loki sighed, giving up on reason. It was Thor, for heaven's sake, logic only applied to intelligent humans- of which species his brother was not a member of._

_Loki walked past, heading down the hill they were playing on, towards the valley their house was comfortably nestled in. It was a nice enough house- not that Loki much cared- three stories and painted the most drop-dead dull color of white. Loki wanted to puke at the over-drenched boredom of the color. Nevertheless, it seemed like a heaven-on-earth compared to listening to his brother's commands for another five seconds._

_"Loki! You can't!" His brother shouted, running to catch up with him. Loki kept walking, ignoring the blond that towered over him already. "Daddy will be so mad!" If Loki had been listening, he might have heard a note of urgency in his brother's voice._

_"I do what I want, Thor." He sniffed, rubbing his nose with dirty fingers. His knee still stung from Thor shoving him to the ground, which had started this whole waterworks drama. _

_He pushed the front door open and stopped dead. A man in an ugly blue suit looked down at him in surprise. His father stood behind the man, glaring at him so hard he thought he might fall over dead just from the look in that blue eye. Oops. For once, Thor might've been right. "Hello there, who are you?" The ugly-suit's voice made Loki want to go deaf. Did adults always sound so snotty? _

_"I'm Thor." Thor stuck out a pudgy hand and offered a charming smile while Loki merely glared at the man for being in his house and intruding upon his peaceful life. He had forced the two boys out of the house for over an hour- a treacherous offense. "And this is my little bro, Loki." _

_"What happened to your knee, Loki?" The man asked, being kind enough, but bringing back to mind the stinging pain that started the nearly-dried tears once again._

_The fell down his cheeks as he looked at Thor helplessly. Being the loving and adoring older brother he was, Thor wrapped an arm around him and murmured something about a bandaid. Loki heard nothing. He merely melted into the big blond and let himself be led around the men- until something hard grabbed his arm hard enough to make him squeak in surprise at the new, more important pain. _

_"Stop crying. You're not a baby anymore." A low voice growled in his ear so menacingly, it brought to mind every male villain he had ever read about or seen on TV. "And if you don't stop, I'll give you something to cry about." The voice snarled, the vise on his arm gripping him extra tightly before letting go._

_Loki looked at a very pale Thor, and let the tears continue to fall as he was folded into childish arms that shushed him and petted his hair. "It's okay, Loki. __I'll hide you." _

* * *

Loki looked around at the class, relieved not to see a brown-haired head that even vaguely resembled the one he had been dreading all day. He was so paranoid, even the slightest sound made him jump a foot in the air. Natasha had nearly pulled her hair out by the time they'd gotten done with breakfast. Loki couldn't really blame her, he'd have been exasperated with him too. But after last night, and the overly emotional morning when Stark had told him he was going to be okay and kissed away his tears and given him a rose and essentially made him feel like a coveted _princess-_ well, Loki couldn't be blamed for his precarious state of mind.

"Is this seat taken?" A vaguely frightening voice asked in his ear. But Loki ignored the churning in his gut as he looked over his doodling of a rose in his notebook.

"No." He murmured in distraction, shading in the shadowy effigy across the page.

"Did you miss me?" The words took a few long seconds to register, and then Loki's heart jumped out of his chest.

Thanos.

Motherfucking _Thanos._

_Shit._

He let his eyes finally connect with Thanos', not surprised when everything became ice cold and he kind of turned into an ice-sculpture instead of a really, really pale human that kind of resembled a ghost or someone off Twilight. And okay, from an unbiased viewpoint, the man really was _stunning._ But, for some reason, all Loki could see was a monster behind those diamond blue eyes that cut through him like he was nothing. Like he had never been anything but nothing. Like he deserved nothing. Like, in the grande scheme of things, Loki was nothing. Nothing, _nothing, **nothing.**_

"Well, are you going to sit there looking dumb, or are you going to say something like a mildly intelligent human being?" _Mildly._ Well, isn't Thanos just _full_ of compliments?

"I-" He shook his head, snatching up his notebook and his backpack and flying out of the classroom- mid lecture, mind you.

He hit the hallway practically running, and nearly collided with Clint Barton. _"Whoa!_ Loki?" Warm, strong fingers grasped him tightly, keeping him from falling on his ass.

He smiled gratefully, just barely keeping himself from tears. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Have you seen-"

"Loki!" A deep, grating voice cut through him like a knife. "I wasn't _done_ talking to you." A heavy hand settled on his shoulder. "You can go." He said to Clint.

Soft blue eyes searched Loki's. "Are you sure, _Loki?"_ A heavy glare was sent Thanos' way. Pretty much the only person who could dismiss Clint like that without getting an arrow stuck in some _vital_ part of their body, was Nat.

"He's sure. Go away." Then Loki was spun to face Thanos. He griped his notebook like it would somehow shield him from the nightmare his tongue would not move to save him from. A few words, and this might all be over. But Loki had suddenly forgotten the English language.

God help him.

* * *

Tony was bent over something smoldering in a way that wasn't really promising. Clint stayed a few cautious paces away. Something about the terror written on Loki's face had made him search the science-major, genius-freak out. "Uh, Tony? We needa talk, dude." He said, feeling a few darts of fear shoot up his back when something sparked.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy, _dude."_ Tony sent him a depreciating glare. "In case you couldn't tell."

Right, _of course._ Tony's working, which means that interrupting him was likely to get you either set on fire or word-fucked. He and Loki were so perfect for each other, it wasn't even _funny._ Not that Clint didn't find it the most _awkward_ thing in the world that Tony Stark was in a relationship with another guy or anything, but hey, his friend was happy and that's _kind of_ what mattered. Not that he would ever admit that or anything. _No fucking way._

"It's about Loki." He toyed with a hammer that had _definitely_ seen better days. Did Tony stress every tool he worked with past breaking point, or what?

Tony's head shot up and brown eyes burned on him like molten lava. Oh, _right._ He had mentioned being worried about the kid once- more like _three thousand times-_ this morning.

"What happened?" Tony was yanking off his gloves and dialing stuff down faster than Clint had ever seen him move since that time he got really super high and started running around the campus screaming something unintelligible over spring break. "Is he okay?" There was something terrified in Tony's voice that Clint found he really hated.

"Uh, I don't know. I mean, he was with that new guy. Um. Thanos, or something fucking weird like that, last time I saw him. He didn't look...happy." He swallowed hard past remembering that look on Loki's face. He didn't even really like the kid- he was a brat and spoiled and a little too _fabulous_ for him- but that look had made him want to beat the shit out of whatever scared him. Not that Clint's the knight in shining armor type or anything, but he really _hated_ seeing people so petrified. It brought up some distinctly unpleasant memories of his childhood. "I tried calling, but your phone was off or something." He shrugged, averting his eyes.

_Stop remembering._

"Where?" Tony sounded panicked.

"Come on, I'll take you." He spun on one heel like a soldier, and took off towards where he had last seen Loki Odinson. Tony on his heels like a frenetic guard dog.

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how far his heart sunk, but he was pretty sure it was the seventh circle of hell.

Loki was pressed against a wall, mouth-to-mouth with Thanos. But, when Loki shoved helplessly against the bigger man, that's when Tony felt _hellfire_ start to consume him.

He was running before he realized it, and tackling Thanos before he really gave it a thought. And, to be honest, Tony's been in more fights than he cared to admit, but this was the first one he was _sure_ he could win. Not that he was the _best_ fighter in the world- although he wasn't too shabby- but the rage in the middle of his chest was something he hadn't felt since Yinsen had died and he'd busted out of hell in a ghetto iron man suit that had nearly _killed_ him whilst _saving_ him.

Of course, it turned out that Thanos was just as fucking good a fighter as he was. Of _course._ Because, y'know, God can't give him a motherfucking _break_ every once and a while. And ow, _ow, **ow,**_ his nose hurt. Probably because a big ass fist had smashed it against his face. By the time they were almost to the point of breaking bones, he was hauled back by a harsh hand on his shirtcollar, and Loki was like attacking him in a hug, and Thor was in Thanos' face, and Clint was standing between them with a confused look on his face, and campus security was trying to break the whole thing up. And Loki was saying something and giving him a _really_ worried look, but blood was roaring in his ears along with a _fuckload_ of adrenaline and Thor was bellowing loud enough to drown everything out and Tony wanted to _**break every bone**_ in Thanos' body for the look he was giving Loki over Thor's shoulder. But, just as he moved to do just that, Loki tugged on his arm enough to make his heart crumble into a puddle of tears and love. Yeah, Tony had a _heart._ Imagine that.

"Anthony, _no._ Don't." Big green eyes were raining on snowy cheeks that Tony wanted to kiss over and over and over until there were no more tears. _"Please,_ let's go _home."_ There was a bruise forming on Loki's lip. Rage threatened to boil over again.

Instead of killing Thanos- although it seemed Thor was already trying to verbally _flay_ the skin from the brunet's bones- Tony let Loki pull him towards their car.

* * *

They fell into bed together. The bleeding was stopped, and pretty much _everything_ hurt. Loki was still sniffling, and Tony puled him close. "I'm so _sorry,_ Anthony." He whispered, his voice almost drowned out by the music the saturnine teenager had turned on while Tony washed the blood off his face. He was shirtless, and the blue light coming from his chest illuminated the room.

"Don't be, love. You didn't do anything wrong." He murmured into inky hair that felt soft and silky against his aching face. He didn't even want to think about the pretty blue and black bruises he'd have in the morning. He's gonna look like a motherfucking _zombie._ Not to mention, feel like one, too.

But right now, nothing really mattered but _Loki._ Loki who was tracing idle patterns on his chest and Tony's pretty sure he's drawing miniature arc reactors, which, _yeah,_ is kind of _really_ precious. And the rose he gave Loki this morning is painting the room with the smell of spring, and Loki smells like peppermint and tears, and his hair is a tangled mess. And what's _really_ bothering Tony, is that bruise that was turning purple against the soft pink of Loki's lips- a bruise he didn't put there. A bruise Loki fought against. A mark from Thanos.

"But _he_ kissed me. And I couldn't stop him." Loki murmured, pulling out of his arms and laying on his back. Emerald eyes glared at the ceiling while his lips turned into a very _angry_ red line against pure white skin.

God, he was _gorgeous._

"Loki." He waited for Loki to look at him. No dice. "Loki Laufeyson." He poked the tiny teen in the ribs. Emerald eyes flashed into his. It almost hurt how intense and unhappy they were. "I don't _care._ And you know why?" A disgruntled expression proved that Loki _wasn't_ going to answer- in fact, he was more likely to just murder Tony because he was _so_ irritating. "Because you're _here._ You're right here next to me. And right here, Thanos is _nothing._ He isn't here, he can't bother you. And right here, you're _mine._ _I_ can kiss you. _I_ can love you. And he can go fuck himself for all I care." He moved to lay over Loki, leaning against his elbows and rubbing his nose against Loki's with a smile. Loki returned the expression.

"So _kiss_ me. So _love_ me." Spindly fingers tangled themselves in Tony's hair, gripping his mud-colored curls tightly.

Tony obliged, all too willingly.

* * *

Loki looked over, smiling in the blue reflected off the tears on his face. Silent and sad, he inched forward between cool sheets, aligning his body with that warm form sprawled across the bed. The last day and a half spun through his head as cool metal thrummed warmly in front of his face. Anthony's heart, bared only for him in the darkness of midnight- it was something he could _depend_ on, something he could _trust._

If Loki knew one thing for _certain,_ it was that Anthony Edward Stark had a heart.

* * *

A/N:** So, um. This is a clusterfuck of I don't even know. Maybe it's good. Maybe it's the worst thing I've ever written. To be honest, I don't know which one it is. It is longer, that much I do know. So, enjoy that. **

**Seriously, all of you guys have been so super sweet and supportive. I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate that. I have the best readers on the internet. Like, you guys rock. Seriously. Give yourselves a hug for me, because I would if I were there, but I'm not :/.**

**What it all comes down to, is, starting this fanfic has been the best idea I've had in...idk, ages? Ever? And you guys are the reasons why. I love to write, and all that jazz, but you guys have made this experience better than I had ever hoped. I didn't even think anyone would like this shit. But y'all do. So, LOVE YOU ALLLLLLL SO MUCH. XOXOX.**

**You guys have a FABULOUS holiday weekend, okay? **

**And maybe review? yeah? No? Okay.**

**[1] Gothic in reference to art, not the fashion. Just so ya know.**

**xoxox, Rayn.**


	19. Chapter 19- Heaven's Gonna Wait

A/N:** It's so short. I'm so sorry. ****  
**

**WARNING- Pretty much the same as always. This chapter is a little dark. Definite talk of addictions. So, if you're going to be triggered by anything, please don't read this. Being triggered sucks serious ass.**

**xoxox**

**p.s. Heaven's Gonna Wait is by Hedley. Check em out. Good band, mi amigos.**

* * *

Tony glared out the window, staring at the huge clouds accumulating at the edge of the horizon. It would rain soon. A real thunder-boomer for sure.

He took another swig from a whiskey-darkened bottle.

Lit a cigarette.

Breathed the smoke.

It felt good, the burning in his throat and the protesting of his lungs. His head swam, his vision blurring for a second. Everything became just the tiniest bit sharper, and he could see the faces of the people walking on the sidewalk outside. People that were stories upon stories below his apartment. He wondered for a second what it would be like to fly down to them from his balcony. Just one step off the railing, close his eyes, and everything would be over with a crack on the concrete. Funny how fast things can change, when you take matters into your own hands.

Funny how badly you can fuck your life up with one insidious thought.

Fourteen years old, and he tried it for himself. He tried to end it with a little too much booze, a few too many pills. It had seemed so simple at the outset. Like, if he had really wanted to, he could rewind and it would be like he had never taken those pills. The strange part was, he never wanted to. He never wanted to rewind, backtrack, travel back through time and reverse his then-recent past. And then Obie had run in and done it for him. He had knelt above him, calling 9-1-1, something a little unsteady in his voice. Tony had almost laughed.

It was all just so fucking funny.

And now, he was here. His life was ruined by a desire he had finally gone through with. A dream- or nightmare- he had finally followed through til the end. An end that _wasn't_ the end. Five years ago, and it was still fucking with his head. Five years ago, and he still couldn't get past it. Five years ago, and it was still haunting him. It crouched in his mind, waiting to pounce on him and drag him down, _down, **down**_ into a deeper and more unfathomable depression.

_So_ funny.

Maybe he'd laugh till he cried.

Or maybe he'd cry until he laughed.

* * *

Tony woke up on the floor, something pounding in his head like a jackhammer. He looked around blearily, feeling a tight coil in his stomach about to jump up his throat and out his mouth. He scowled at nothing. But the pounding didn't stop, and he realized it wasn't inside his head. It was someone knocking on the door. He might murder them for the pain they were causing his poor brain.

He stumbled, tripped, fell fifteen _million_ times, and knocked into about fifty different things (including his _own_ two feet) just to get to the god damn door and rip _someone's_ head off. He yanked the door open (and nearly broke the doorknob) to see Steve's somber face. _Steve. _Seriously.

Fuck. His. Life.

It wasn't that he didn't completely adore Steve, because he really did. It's just that Tony has come to the realization that wreaking of alcohol and looking like what was probably a fabulous imitation of a _ghost,_ was not the best idea around Steve. Because saying Steve was a mother hen was probably the understatement of the year. And Tony was his _project._ He wanted to _fix_ Tony, to make everything all better like it was a boo-boo you could just kiss away. But it _wasn't._ It wasn't just a boo-boo. It was a gaping wound that had become infected and was starting to poison Tony's lifeblood. It was seeping through his veins and turning him into a ticking time-bomb. One day, it would kill him. And there's not really anything anyone can do about that.

"Are you drunk?" Steve asked, peering at him in surprise. _Why_ would it be a surprise?

_Oh,_ because it's 8 am. On Monday. _Whoops._ So much for class. Not that Tony cares. He's Tony Stark. He'd like to see the fucker who'd fail him.

"No, ociffer. I swear I ain't been drinkin'." Tony teased, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he gracefully- ha _ha **ha**-_ stumbled back into the apartment. Suddenly, he noticed the stench of the alcohol that had spilled _somewhere..._

"Jesus, Tony. This place looks...terrible." The astonishment in Steve's voice wasn't new. This wasn't the first time he'd dropped by after Tony'd trashed his apartment. Fits of rage run in the Stark bloodline. He remembered his dad getting drunk, and the memory ran a shiver down his spine.

He just shrugged in response. In two days, Tony was going to be evicted. Suffice to say, he didn't care if the place burned to the ground. Bitterness coiled tightly in his chest. But _no,_ he wasn't going to think about Howard today. He was already depressed and angry enough. _Let it lie, Anthony. Just let it go._ That's what Loki had told him, once, about their fathers. But _hell,_ neither of them had very much luck with that. He shook his head, focusing on the newly poured glass of Scotch in his hand. He resisted the urge to throw it at the wall, and watch the faded white paint weep alcohol tears.

_"So,_ how're you?" Steve looked him over with a searing gaze that Tony felt could see all the dirty things he was keeping locked up in his soul. It was poisoning him. Throwing him deeper down a fatal rabbit hole he'd tripped into when he was fourteen.

He gave the man a disbelieving look. "Oh, I'm just _peachy,_ Steve." Brown eyes rolled. Focused on the landscape outside. Took in the rain and lightning flashing with the wrath of the gods. His fingers clenched.

"Loki's worried." Steve ran a hand back over his short blond hair. Tony's jaw almost dropped. Steve and Loki talking? What the _fuck._ "Yeah, he was so worried he came to _me,_ Tony." Because now Steve can read his mind. _Fuck yeah_. "He told me you haven't been answering his calls. What's going on?" There was an exasperated tint to his friend's deep voice.

Tony just kept staring out the window. What could he say? He had been ignoring his phone, completely dismissing the idea that Loki might get worried. Loki? Worried? Well, it wasn't _entirely_ impossible- especially considering the whole Afghanistan fiasco, which _still_ haunted him every sleeping and waking moment. There was something bone-chilling about getting kidnapped that kind of stuck with you. Sometimes, he wondered if those days would ever leave him alone. If he'd ever stop waking up panting and covered in a cold sweat that had him shivering under his tangled blankets. Right now, he felt as if that fear and desperation would stick with him _forever._

"I'll go see him later." Once he'd sobered up and taken a shower, he'd go see his boy. He had missed him. But he didn't want the frail, oh-so fragile-looking teenager to see him like this.

Sure, Loki _seemed_ so strong. But inside, he knew that kid was breaking just as badly as he was. And he _hated_ that. Hated it with every fiber of his body. But there was nothing he could do to change it, just as there was nothing Loki could do to change his pain. At the beginning, Tony had _believed_ they could fix each other. But now, now hope was _gone._ Hope was something for the _weak._ Hope was disappearing faster than that light at the end of the tunnel.

"Tony, why're you doing this?" Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder, and for a second, he thought the bigger, stronger man might shake him. He knew he wanted to. But Steve would never do that, he would never hurt him. Tony wished, just this once, that he would. He _wanted_ someone to hurt him. Wasn't that what he deserved?

"Why not?" He smiled out the window, looking past his reflection to the storm raging on the sidewalks and rooftops across the street. "Why not? I mean, gotta die of something."

We all fall down. Even Tony. Even Steve. Even Loki.

* * *

Loki looked up from his homework lying across the grass when a long shadow fell across the page of his book. A man's shadow. Tall, well-built, lean. It was a form he knew as well as the back of his hand, even warped by the sun. Because, he had seen this shadow before. It had been in the form of flesh and blood, holding him in a tender vise while they kissed beside a picnic. It had been summers ago, when he was tan and full of smiles- even if the darkness within his soul turned them into fake masquerades- and when his heart wasn't _quite_ broken yet. That flesh and blood which had bruised him with hard fists and nasty words that still rung in his ears and spun round and round in his head.

He looked up. Dark cobalt eyes burned his.

Thanos.

"Hi, Loki." He sat down cross-legged in front of him. Loki regarded him with an arctic gaze.

He was determined not to be intimidated. At least not from the outset. Sure, he would probably fold like an old suit in thirty seconds, give or take, but he would try. It was more than he had ever done with Thanos. He had always folded, always given way, always caved immediately. Their relationship had been so centered around Thanos, sometimes Loki wondered if the man had really been in a relationship with himself, and Loki was just a casual fuck on the side.

"Hello." He let his voice ring strong and fearless. But he was already quaking. Shaking hands balled into fists in his lap. The edge of the page crinkled in his book. A knot formed in his stomach. Something constricted his throat.

A smile spread across the slightly older man's face. "I'm glad you've finally gotten over that petty hostility. I _knew_ you still loved me." And from the beams in his eyes, you'd think he'd won the lottery. But Loki was _not_ a prize to win.

"Yeah," He smiled fallaciously and shook his head. "All that hostility was so unnecessary. You know, there was only _one_ thing I've ever really needed to say to you, Thanos."

And, let's be perfectly honest. Loki knows that what he's doing is so, _so, **so**_ magnificently _stupid._ This was just not done around Thanos, and anyone who happened to have the balls of steel necessary to do it...well, things never necessarily worked out well for them in the end. But guess what. Loki didn't care. Because sometimes, our lives need to be changed so drastically, that we must go through a moment of complete insanity- or what doesn't make us stronger, will kill us.

"Tell me, baby." It was almost sickening to Loki that a man so cruel and uncaring, could look so loving and full of adoration.

That man had raped Loki.

And that's what he used to give him this unusual bravery. If he didn't remember that, he would cave. He would be sweet and cowardly. And one thing Loki could never allow himself to be, was a coward. He could be a diva, he could be a drama queen, he could be a punching bag. But he would never stand by and take whatever someone else dished out without some sort of fight.

"_Go to hell_." He stood, leaning down to look straight into Thanos's eyes. "I do **not** love you. And god help me, I may have once, but that's over. That's done. I **hate** you. And I don't hate a lot of people. But I hate you with every fiber of my-"

A fist smacked into his mouth.

_Ow._

_Ow._

_Owowowowow._

He stumbled backward, his hand going to his gushing lip in surprise. I mean, hell, it wasn't the first time the man had hit him. God, _no._ But he'd never been so...public about it. And maybe that's what started the fire in his gut, or maybe it was that finally, _finally,_ all that inner rage he should've been feeling, was catching up to him. Maybe this was what happened when you played with fire, because god knows he had been. Loki has that damning tendency to let those he love get away with murder. And he'd certainly spared no costs when it came to Thanos.

So perhaps, Loki straightening his back and charging for Thanos, had been a _long_ time coming.

Alas, things are never as Loki wishes them to be in his ridiculously imaginative mind- wherein he envisioned himself tackling Thanos and pummeling all his anger into the man's pretty face (and any truthful soul will acknowledge that this would never happen because Loki is an atheist David up against a religious Goliath, here)- because a strong arm hooks itself around his waist and hauls him to a halt against a strong chest with something pretty hard and painful in the middle of his chest. Something that tells him this man has a heart, and also tells him that this is the man that has been completely absent without a known explanation for a whole week.

Suffice to say, Loki's not the most warm, cuddly being right now.

"Loki, calm down." Stark's voice isn't warm and tender. It's harsh and ground down to a deep bass, and it really sounds like someone just woke him up. Only now, he's not all up in Loki's face, nuzzling him and murmuring sweet nonsense in his ear even though he woke up about two hours earlier covered in cold sweat and dreaming things he will _never_ tell Loki about. "_I'm_ here." And yeah, Stark, that would've worked if you'd been there the past seven days. But _no,_ you disappeared off planet fucking earth and Loki doesn't trust anyone who's vanished for that long. God only knows _what_ you've been up to, and Loki plans on having a good long discussion with you about that _after_ he kills Thanos.

Loki would go into a homicidal rage on the ass of any motherfucker who _dared_ to say he had an easy life, right now.

"Let me go!" And yeah, his voice is verging on the bitchiest it's ever been with Anthony. But hey, Loki's not known for being a kind, gentle soul, either.

"Yeah, let him go. He can't hurt me." Thanos leers.

It is possible for Loki to get _more_ enraged?

Yes, yes it is.

And the warm, fiery hand on his ribs- right over that god damn scar, which may or may not be driving Loki's senses into overdrive because he hates/loves it when Stark touches him there and pretty much makes all his fears _poof_ into blissful oblivion- is suddenly gripping him with all the strength of an iron fist. The gasp that escapes his mouth takes even him by surprise- it _hurts,_ Anthony- but what shocks him even more is being pushed behind the inventor that's really a few inches shorter (although he'd never mention that to a certain pint-sized engineer). "- even look his way again, I'll castrate you." And although Loki only came back to earth for the tail-end of that threat, he's pretty sure he heard the same thing come out of Thor's face a few times two years ago when Loki's world exploded into the fucked-up supernova it is now.

When, and only when Loki's about to fucking _explode_ from rage and fear and hatred and love and a little disappointment, do they leave. And it's really not leaving for Loki, because he's more like being dragged away by a strong hand on the small of his back that promises to grab him again if he makes a break for it. Although the thought that he could probably outrun Stark has crossed his mind, he know's the man has lightning quick reflexes made even faster by the muscles Loki can actually _feel_ bunching under the engineer's tanned and burnt skin. And even if he _loves_ getting swept into those strong arms most of the time, today he's just too pissed at the world to want _anyone's_ embrace.

Fun Fact#19: Loki is a touchy-feely person. When he's affectionate, he will be all over you like a kitten who is over-zealously wanting attention. On the other hand, he can be the frostiest son of a bitch to walk planet earth, in which touching him can result in the highest level of frostbite.

It doesn't take either of them by surprise when Loki does a whipping one-eighty on Stark when they get to Loki's dorm room. "Where the _fuck_ have you been?"

* * *

Tony needs a drink. A _strong_ one. Right _now._ Because, judging by the look in those verdant eyes he absolutely adores, he's in deep, _deep_ shit with the one and _only_ person he truly cares about anymore. And if that's not enough, he's already about to explode from the fury all bottled up in his veins. Thanos is a very lucky motherfucker. Very, _very_ lucky.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?" Loki's voice is the deepest and most cracked and broken he's ever heard it. His pale face is shadowed by the light shining behind him in the kitchen, and it makes his hollow cheeks and deepset eyes even darker. Not for the first time, he wishes the tiny teenager would eat more.

Tony's at a loss for words. He looks down, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor uncertainly. Telling Loki he went on a week-long binge and drugfest probably isn't the _best_ way to get himself out of this conundrum. Then again, lying to Loki isn't gonna get him anywhere good, because the boy can tell lie from truth like a god damn polygraph.

Decisions, decisions.

* * *

A/N:**So, this may be the most unsatisfactory chapter ever. I do apologize.**

**Life has been a little...ugh, lately. So, I request your patience. I'm going to definitely try to grind out some longer, better, more quickly updated chapters now. I don't know what's wrong. Writer's block, I s'pose.**

**Anyways, please review, even though it's short. Tell me what's good, what's bad, what I can improve on. It'll help me a ton. **

**I LOVE Y'ALL. And thanks for the patience. **

**xoxox, Rayn.**


	20. Chapter 20- I Will Be

A/N:** I Will Be by Avril Lavigne. Totally listen to it, it basically is this chapter. So, yeah. Enjoy, my loves.**

**WARNING: Same as last time. Lots of triggering shit. LOTS. Really, if you haven't realized by now, that most every chapter has something triggering in it...well, glasses could be a good choice for you ;b.**

**xoxox **

* * *

_He was drowning in a sea of confusion, tempest-tossed and lost in the midst of a storm. God had abandoned him, and all he had left were lightning-filled squalls and angry waves. His ship had thrown him overboard, and there was no one to grab his desperate, clawing hand. The rest of the world ignored him, abandoning him like a hungry orphan- passed by without a thought, reaching hand brushed aside by bitter, cruel people with money lined pockets and luxurious lives. And with each passing moment, he was growing more and more tired of keeping his head above water, of hearing his empty stomach growl bitterly. The air was running out, the sea was filling his lungs, and soon, he would be beyond salvation._

_This, is what depression feels like._

_This, is not a happy emotion._

_This, is not a fad._

_This, is not to be ignored._

* * *

Tony looked at Loki and frowned. No lies sprang to mind, no cloying smiles crossed his face, no charming jokes vomited from his mouth. He was at a loss. And there Loki was, arms crossed, mouth in a firm line. The boy was not to be trifled with, not if Tony wanted to keep this relationship. And he did, he wanted to be with Loki more than anything. If he was with Loki, the sun didn't have to rise, the world didn't have to keep spinning, the universe could explode- and all would be well in Tony's world, because Loki was by his side.

He was in love. But, unfortunately, that didn't make the reality of who he was, and what he was, and how he dealt with all the fucked up shit in his life any less repulsive. Hell, even _he_ hated him. And how could he ask Loki to be okay with this? How could he even pretend that it was acceptable behavior to just all of a sudden ditch your boyfriend? And why, oh _why,_ had he done it? Why couldn't he just suck it up and _pretend_- like he always had- that he wasn't falling apart inside. Like his past, and everything he had once been wasn't being upchucked by his sickened, diseased heart? All the words, thoughts, pain he had felt in the past was just being flooded before his eyes, coming out of him in a steady stream of negativity and anguish.

But how could he tell Loki that? Tony was petrified of revealing who he was. Even after all this time, after everything they had survived together in the past year and a half, and he couldn't tell the boy the truth. He couldn't tell him how his head was spinning, how every time he was alone- even for a split second- the world crashed down on him like walls on a claustrophobic in a tunnel, and how could he dare tell him that at any given moment, he might do the _unspeakable._ Because Loki had too, _too, **too**_ much on him. Tony could see the wounded glint in his eyes when he thought no one was paying attention- and yeah, Tony's _always_ paying attention when it comes to Loki- and he remembers the sight of those bright red, angry lines on his arms, and he realizes that Loki is getting more gaunt and pale by the day.

Most of all, though, he remembered that day. He remembered Obie's haunted look when he watched Tony get raced to the hospital in an ambulance. He remembered the unsteady shake of his voice, and the tears glimmering in his eyes. He remembered the man picking up his emaciated, fourteen year old form- his arms shaking and his chest moving too fast. Tony remembered everything through a drugged haze that overshadowed half his life. And it made everything so much more brilliant and dazzling and bizarre. So much more scary. So much more _threatening._

And now, at nineteen, Tony's a fucking walking plethora of bitterness and rage and depression and addiction and all the bad things in the world. And he's all of that fucked up shit that Loki's been exposed to for _forever._ But Tony doesn't want to be that all over again for Loki. He wants to be something _different,_ something gentle and kind and thoughtful. Tony wants to take Loki to fancy restaurants and get him drunk on expensive wine, and make him feel like a fucking _princess._ He wants to take Loki to Russia or China or the fucking South Pole to see comets chase each other through the sky, or to Alaska so he can see the Northern Lights dancing, or somewhere deep in the uninhabited bits of America so he can see the twinkling stars that Tony's been obsessed with since he can remember.

So, when Tony looks at his dark, raven-esque, snow white angel, everything goes blank.

* * *

Clint looks at Thor across the table with dull eyes. The man looks strung out. Did he go off his roids or something? No, Hawkeye _isn't_ jealous- not really, but I mean, have you _seen_ the muscles on that dude?- but he's...pissy. See, he and Nat were just getting to the, um, _good_ part. Where it was more tongue and teeth than lips and soft breath. And now, he's left here glaring at some blond mountain while Nat makes some of her battery acid coffee- he pretends its good, but the woman _is_ Russian, for fuck's sake, if she makes a drink that isn't strong, there's cause to be worried.

_"So,_ how's it going with Natasha?" Oh yeah, because Thor's _really_ interested.

Hawkeye narrows his eyes and grunts.

Then a red-headed maven who could probably castrate any man to walk planet earth, swings into the room with three steaming mugs of coffee whilst wrapped in a blanket. Because it's motherfucking cold in this god damn city, Clint _gratefully_ takes his eye-watering coffee and breathes in the thick steam. _Mmm._ Warmth. Natasha's shivering. Thor's nose is red like Rudolph got on steroids and bleached his hair. And all of them look ready to kill the dorm manager who somehow forgot that heat is an essential thing when it's fall in New York City.

Natasha's azure eyes look at Thor like he's on trial. Clint nearly snickers, remembering how fucking intimidating that moment was- when she locked eyes with you and made you feel like the shit on her shoes. But hey, as long as he wasn't under that mega watt glare, he was happy to enjoy the show. His girl was _superwoman._

"I-I...I saw Loki and Thanos get into a fight earlier today." Thor fidgeted in his seat. Hawkeye thought it was remarkably funny how he looked like a five year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His big blue eyes wouldn't meet Natasha's.

Narrowing her brilliant, drop-dead gorgeous, _sexy_ blue eyes, "Mmm." It was the most intimidating sound the woman had made all day. But, that's how things were with Natasha and Loki. It was over-protectiveness taken to a whole other level.

"I want _to...chase_ him away. But, I need help." _Oooh,_ now things are getting interesting. Clint leaned forward, taking a sip of his coffee and trying to quietly choke without attracting undo attention.

Natasha sent a split second glare his way that seared through his skin and into his soul. "Chase? You mean, you want to intimidate him." Welp, you can take the girl out of the U.S.S.R., but you can't take the U.S.S.R. out of the girl. Or something like that. Maybe all the caffeine was going to his head.

Thor gulped, and nodded. Clint felt the need to roll his eyes at the man's reluctance. It was a well-known fact in their tight little group, that Loki had gotten the shit beat out of him by good ole big brother, and that's _exactly_ why Natasha was about to break the man's face. The only reason she had yet to do so, was because Tony cornered her and told her that _'apparently'_ Thor'd had a change of heart. Hawkeye had yet to be convinced. Mostly because he'd seen something strange in Tony's eyes, something on edge. He knew that the two teenagers were handling more than any nineteen year old should have.

"And you want _my_ help?" She asked, the level of plausible-violence-within-the-next-ten-minutes shooting up about five thousand degrees. Hawkeye prepared to duck- there was no reason to get this chemical sludge she made him drink all over himself.

Again, Thor nodded. Clint sniggered, cat caught your tongue, Thor? Finally, he wasn't the one and only man to have been frightened by the impregnable Black Widow.

Natasha sat back, her arm brushing Clint's and making goosebumps race across her skin. She was frigid- but weren't they all?- so he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Nonchalantly, of course. Her eyes met his for a minute, contracting a half of a soft smile from her lips.

God damn, Thor. God damn him.

"Have you spoken to Loki about this?" Nat asked, bundling into her blanket tighter. God, it was cold. She had to be having flashbacks of Russia in winter-time. He wanted to go back with her, he wanted to see where she had lived. He wanted to finally see all the beauty she had told him of, to watch the contrast of her bright red hair against the pure snow, to hold her tight and keep her warm in the midst of all that Siberian chill. He wanted to see her beautiful Russia, and tell her she far surpassed it.

Thor blanched, and Clint felt Natasha's spine stiffen. "No. Me and Loki haven't been speaking. He doesn't wish to hear from me." He squirmed uncomfortably. "I was kind of hoping you could get Tony on board, Clint." Blue eyes settled on him hopefully. Natasha glared at him pointedly.

Whoa, _whoa, **whoa!**_ When had he been dragged into this? Loki's bullshit was _not_ his problem- even if he had totally developed a soft spot for the wolfish teen- and he was not gonna be a part of all this._ No way_. No. And really, half of the reason he wasn't getting involved was because he had the feeling if he said yes, Natasha might behead him where he sat. "Um, I think you need to talk to Tony, yourself. I mean, this isn't any of _my_ business." He shrugged, studying his pitch black coffee intensely.

"I'm _making_ it your business." Thor's voice sounded offended and confused. Well, shit.

Didn't Thor understand, this was Loki's life? He was a big boy, he could and was handling it. Well, with a shitload of help from Tony- but it seemed to be a symbiotic relationship. Clint had seen everything from his vantage point. He was silent, a shadow in a dark room, he could blend into any atmosphere. He still wasn't sure how he had gotten Tony's attention back when he had first started going here. The college parties were a pulsating, gyrating, electrical assault on the senses, yet somehow, Tony had singled him out and gotten him more drunk than he'd known was possible at his very first campus party. And now, he was a little like Natasha was with Loki; you fucked with Tony, and Clint would break you. That's just how it was. He had become Tony's unofficial bodyguard.

"No, Thor." Clint shook his head. "I'm not gonna help you with this." He stood, garnering a surprised look from Natasha. "Loki and Tony are my friends. I won't go behind their back to help you."

Then Hawkeye turned and walked out, leaving Natasha to smile stupidly at his back, and Thor to stare in shock.

* * *

Loki wanted to scream. Stark had suddenly become oh-so fascinated by the hideous grey dorm carpeting, obviously hiding his eyes beneath long, curly brown bangs. And yes, Loki wanted to reach out and stroke his face and comfort whatever pain he was hiding so diligently- but he _couldn't._ The moment he touched Tony, all would be forgotten and kicked under the rug to fester and decay into their relationship like acid. There could be no hidden truths, no ignored lies. If the two of them were going to survive this, then they had to be blunt, open, honest. Three things they _never_ were, under any circumstances.

But Loki liked to believe, that, with each other, they were _different._

Was he wrong? Were they just the same men under a different mask? Could they make this work? Loki was beginning to doubt it. He and Stark were just too alike, they were two competing forces, two things ripping and pulling each other apart at all the most vulnerable, tender places. They knew each other's weaknesses, knew what hurt most, knew exactly what to hold back so they wouldn't get too close, get too hurt. And really, Loki couldn't fault him- he'd done the same things. How could he say he was ready? How could he know he could..._love?_

"I'm so _sorry,_ Loki." Loki glared at him frostily. Put up the walls, maintain the bitch face, whatever you do, Loki, _don't_ look vulnerable. "I know what I did was inexcusable." He sighed, moving to stand by the window and glare out at the chilly autumn world. "But, I do that. And I don't really give any thought to anyone else. Sometimes, I just break away from the world for a while." Loki could understand the desire for solace, but he knew there was _more._ Something that Stark was hiding, it was in the way he wouldn't meet Loki's eyes, the way he let his now-long hair veil his face, the carefully controlled stance.

They may know each other's weaknesses, but they know their strengths too.

And Tony's strength was being an emotionless bastard if he needed to be. And that's precisely what he was doing right now, because, although the _remorse_ was real, there were too many emotions roiling beneath the surface for Loki to ignore. "But, Anthony, now you have someone who's an integral part of your life. You can't just disappear off the planet without letting me know." He sighed, running his hands through his hair. The last thing he needed to do was berate the man. But god _damn_ it, he'd been so worried. "I just...I was so worried you..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say the unthinkable that had been bludgeoning his brain all week.

Anthony turned around, frowning at Loki. "You were so worried I had _what?_ Finally finished what I started when I was fourteen?" Loki took a step back. The young man's voice was harsh, taking him back to a place he hadn't been in a long time. And it took him a few seconds to catch up. Fourteen? Suicide. "I almost did." Stark was in Loki's face, his brown eyes burning. "I almost did, Loki. And you know what, I wish I had succeeded when I was younger, because now I..." His voice broke, his eyes dropped, liquid glass sliding down his cheek. "I'm too much of a _coward_ to do it now."

Loki was frozen, his hands gentle on Stark's chest, his own back against the wall. Anthony's head was bowed, staring at the strip of carpet separating their feet. _"No._ No, you're _not_ a coward." He cupped Stark's chin in his hand, wondering at the contrast in their skin tone. Their eyes met. "You're strong. Stronger than you were. And it's _okay,_ Anthony. I'm right here. I'm not going _anywhere."_ He shook his head, he had come _so_ close to uttering those three little words that _petrified_ him right now. "But you have to meet me halfway. You can't just disappear without letting me know you're okay. If you need some time to yourself, all you have to do is say so."

A warm hand ran up his side, running around his back and pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Lo-Lo." Whispered words hardly meant a thing. But he was forgiven this time.

No promises, no guarantees.

* * *

Frigga looked down at the snapshot in her hand. Two little boys, one blond, one with hair the color of ink. _Her_ boys. Neither of them had been to the house since Thor had beaten Loki up- under advisement from his father. She had yet to truly forgive her husband. Of course, she had always known this day would come, when Odin would do something unforgivable, and her baby would slowly disappear out of her life. Nevertheless, she refused to lose him without a _fight._

Today, she was going to go see him.

Sure, she was prepared to be spurned, in her misanthropic, acerbic son's usual dismissal. Too many times over the years, she had seen him throw Thor out of his room, or yell at him to leave him alone, or growl about how Thor was such a pain in the ass. And she had laughed, thinking it was hi-jinks, and they'd _eventually_ get over it. But, over the years, Loki had just gotten more withdrawn, more upset, more depressed. He had become more and more introverted, slowly furthering himself from his family and friends.

Frigga supposed she'd known then. Her little boy was destined for tragedy.

* * *

It was Saturday, and Loki woke up at the bright and shining early hour of noon. Perhaps practically living with Stark was corrupting him, just a _little._ When he'd told Nat last night that he and his scarily addicted boyfriend had nearly broken up, she'd said _"If you two ever break up, I'm scared what you'll do, Loki."_ Basically, she'd spoken his own fears out loud, only, he knew exactly what he'd do. And perhaps that was the scariest part of all. In what normal relationship did two people prepare for failure? I suppose, that would imply that they were two normal people, though, wouldn't it?

But, it was over, for now. Loki knew they'd have a shit ton of knock-down, drag-out fights far worse and more heartbreaking than this. There are several reasons why.

1) Loki's terrified of this relationship.

2) Stark is terrified of this relationship.

3) They're both immature, volatile people who've never _actually_ experienced a successful relationship of _any_ type.

4) Loki can skin people alive with words.

5) Tony is an addict.

6) Loki is suffering from abandonment on all fronts.

7) Tony is suffering from PTSD.

8) They're two of the most enormously fucked up individuals alive.

9) They're both fabulous misanthropes. _Fabulous._

And there's one reason that outshines them all:

10) They love each other. And because of this love, they will fight each other for all the wrong reasons, they will break each other down just to build each other back up. They will spit and bitch and bite and growl in the mornings and late at night because they're too _tired_ to deal with other humans, but can't _bear_ the idea of being apart. They will hate and hold grudges and bicker like old people, but they'll smile and kiss and make up like the young and vibrant men they are.

And Loki knows, _knows_ like he knows the shine of Stark's arc reactor, this is _worth_ it. And it may be hell, but he's been through hell and it isn't that bad. Not when Stark is by his side. Then he can handle everything. Anything. He can handle fire falling from the skies, and broken ribs, and shitty families, and abductions, and absence. He can take on the world, because he's _invincible_ by Stark's side.

His phone rang. "Hello?" He murmured, burying his nose in the pillow and breathing in that spicy scent of young, sleepy Anthony.

"Good morning, princess." A teasing voice crawled across the phone line and into Loki's ear, where it nestled comfortably.

He giggled.

Fun Fact #20: Loki is very sensitive about nicknames and pet names and lovey-dovey-ooey-gooey names that people have in relationships. He and Thanos never used those nicknames, because neither of them thought it appropriate. This viewpoint has _drastically_ changed since one Anthony Edward Stark waltzed into Loki's relatively peaceful life. He is now 'Lo-Lo', 'Princess', 'Babe', 'Darlin'', 'Punk', 'Sweetie', and 'Honeybun'. And for some reason, he loves hearing Stark call him each and every one. The new ones make his heart skip.

"You know, I could go with you." Anthony offered, his voice uncertain and changing such a wonderful morning wake-up call into a dreaded and awkward thing. It was sweet, in Anthony's customarily misplaced way.

So, he smiled at the pillow, grinding his eyes closed against the groggy tears springing forward eagerly. "No, no, love. I have to this on my own, _this_ time." And yeah, his voice was breaking all over the place, but he was okay with that. He was okay sounding vulnerable to Anthony. Because _Anthony_ wouldn't hurt him. Not now.

He heard a sigh translate across the line. "Just...I don't want you to be _alone,_ Loki. I can't get that whole..." He trailed off, and Loki could tell he was shaking his head- as he'd noticed Anthony always did when things got too emotional, as if he was _denying_ everything demanding attention inside of him. They both waged that inner war, one against one's emotions. It was bloody and gory and painful. There was _never_ truly a victor.

"I know, Anthony. I _know."_ He buried his face deep in his pillow. "Come cuddle with me." He murmured into the fabric, begging Anthony to understand his muffled voice.

He did. And he laughed. "You know I would, cupcake. But Banner has me mixed up in some chemical stuff. He can't do it alone." Loki heard his voice drop into that lazily excited tone he used whenever he was talking about science, his _first_ love. "He's on the verge of a real breakthrough, if we can get past the whole safety thing. I never remember any of that stuff, but Bruce always does it by the books." He sounded a little exasperated.

Loki snickered. "So there _is_ someone on planet earth who can make you follow the rules, hmm?" He stretched languidly, feeling each muscle pull taut under his skin.

"Well...not exactly. I have a few burns attesting to that." More stories, more lacy lines on his boy's hands.

They both had more than their fair share of scars. They'd both dabbled in the unhealthy art of hurting themselves, breaking the skin, marring themselves for life. But it told a story, each line had a meaning, each burn had a reason, each marking had a lie, or a hateful word, or a broken heart behind it. Each broken line had seen Loki break down, or Stark curse past tears, or a drunken boy sitting on the floor and sobbing out his misery. And Loki loved every one of Stark's scars. _Each_ and _every_ last one. He wanted to kiss them all, and hear every story, and listen to his lover's deep voice woo his eardrums and whisper across his skin. He wanted to feel the pain that Anthony had felt, know what he had been through the eighteen years before they met. Loki wanted every last _inch_ of Anthony, he wanted to know each and every last detail, he wanted to know what it'd been like when Stark woke up in the hospital, how he'd felt after he lost his virginity, how he celebrated his sweet sixteen. He wanted to know what bones he'd broken climbing trees, what his childhood artwork looked like, what he'd wanted to be when he grew up. All these insignificant details were near-forgotten memories that Loki wanted to know.

_"Anthony."_ He whined, eyes half closed, the smell of John Constantine making coffee drifting to his nose. "You gotta stop hurting yourself, babe." And yes, he was purring, and being intentionally seductive, and he really _shouldn't_ have been distracting Anthony like this.

Something in the kitchen clanged, and John cursed loudly. Loki repressed the urge to snicker. Sure, he loved John, but the man belonged _anywhere_ but a kitchen- in fact, he should keep a ten mile radius between him and any and all ovens. Keeping the man from lighting himself- and the whole apartment, Loki included- on fire, was a full-time job.

"Stop talking like that, or I'm gonna ditch Bruce and come seduce you." The boy growled, his voice low to keep Banner from hearing.

Loki grinned cattily. "Oh _really?_ Seems more like it was me seducing you, Anthony." He traced a pattern on the pillow, then hugged it to his chest, breathing in the engineer who should've been there instead.

Stark laughed breathlessly. "You have _no_ idea what you're-" He cut off sharply. _"Ow!_ God _damn_ it!" Loki jolted, hearing the pain in his boyfriend's voice.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Flashbacks assaulted him in less than half a second:

_"It seems the younger Mr. Stark was abducted after a bomb detonated in his car."_

_"The much loved teenage millionaire was abducted earlier this morning, sources say, after a car bomb exploded near Central Park. It appears that all signs of the teenager were burned along with the fire."_

_"After an explosion in Central Park this morning, sources say Tony Stark, teenage millionaire and promising scientific genius, went missing. Officials have yet to make an announcement, but a trusted source tells us there are no leads as to what happened to the heir of Stark Industries, although it is believed he was kidnapped by international fugitives." _

Everything, absolutely everything, was flashing back, reminding him of that moment when Stark made his heart stop- in the _worst_ way possible. He was pretty sure he didn't breathe for a few days, and he knew, while Stark was gone, he had stopped _living._ Existing, in and of itself, was _more_ than he could handle.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bruce just- No, not those." He sighed. "Loki, look, I gotta go. But call me if you need me, or stop by afterwards. _Just...promise_ you'll call me at the first sign of any trouble? I can't take you getting hurt anymore." The puppy-dog tone in Anthony's voice nearly brought back the tears.

"I promise, love. And you be careful. Kisses can't heal _all_ burns." He smiled, remembering the last time Stark had gotten burnt.

_"Loki, I swear to god, it's not_ that_ bad." Tony protested, watching the stubborn, inky-haired teenager grab the first Aid kit._

_Green eyes looked at him darkly._ "That_ bad? Stark, you_ imbecile,_ those are second degree burns! I honestly don't know why I haven't taken your skinny ass to the hospital." He grumbled, sounding like a really,_ really_ cute bear. Tony smothered the grin that was begging to manifest itself all over his face.  
_

_He shrugged. "I've had worse." And it was true. Tony couldn't count the amount of times he'd caught on fire, or stuck his finger in acid, or done something equally absent-minded, drunk, and stupid. Thank_ God_ for fire extinguishers._

_Loki sighed, shoving his bangs back and running a soft thumb across his forehead. "You have grease all over you. What were you even doing?" Gently, he cleaned the wound running from the end of Tony's thumbnail up to the middle of his forearm. Feather-light fingers moved softly against his skin._

_"Oh, just science stuff." He shrugged, smirking when Loki rolled his eyes._

_Then, Loki did something that caught him completely off-guard. He started kissing his hand. Which, in Tony's pain-fuzzy state, took a second to make sense. It hit him like a brick to the head. Loki was_ kissing_ his_ scars._ The ones that mottled the skin across his fingers, and hand, and all up his arms. Soft lips pressing against the tender breaks in his flesh that had stupid, painful, broken memories behind each and every one._

_Tony pulled Loki against him, pushing their lips together for a slow, affectionate kiss. Tony took his time, memorizing the perfect feel and taste of Loki, and Loki's lips, and the evergreen scent of Loki, and the feeling of Loki's fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and tangling in his grown out curls. He ran his hands up Loki's sides, feeling the sloping ridges of a ribcage, and the sharp point of shoulder blades, and the gentle barely-there curve of his hips. He could feel the hormones thrumming under skin, heating up their flesh like they were turning into molten_ lava.

_They broke apart, breathing a little harder and grinning at each other like two_ stupidly_ in love fools. Then John Constantine came rushing in, muttering something under his breathe in Latin._

"Not for _most_ people, but they can for _me."_ He blew a kiss across the phone, and then was gone.

Loki sighed, time for him to get a move on. It just wouldn't do to be late- except for always fashionable five minute tardiness that was an _unbreakable_ rule in Loki's world.

* * *

A/N:** So. I don't know. It's slightly longer. A lot more...all over the place. And, in case you guys couldn't tell- which, you probably could- I've been trying to incorporate more characters. Like Clint and Nat. And Thor. And Frigga. And, yeah, I left you in suspense -evil grin-. But you probably know what's coming anyways.**

**I'm not sure if this is much good, so please give some feedback. Honestly, my writer's block has been coming and going like a motherfucking curse. And I know, I know, it's been pretty dark recently, but I write based off my own emotions. So...sorry?**

**I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL INTERNET PEOPLE. And I've been terrible about responding to your reviews, but I'm gonna get to that real soon. I promise. You guys mean so much to me! -HUGSSSS-**

**xoxox, Rayn.**


	21. Chapter 21- Goodnight Moon

A/N:** In warning, I give you one three-letter word: SEX. (Plus the usual.)**

**The chapter title is Goodnight Moon by Go Radio. Great song, especially for the middle-to-end (I'm guessing) of the chapter. **

**Enjoy, loves!**

* * *

Tony sighed, wiping away the sweat dripping down the side of his face. He could feel the soot from the fire seeping into his pores and temporarily dyeing him a darker shade of brown. The glow of the flames glinted in his eyes, showing him something unfettered, something not tethered to this world and the rules Tony had rebelled against all his life. It was free, it was unconquerable, it was all-consuming. And more than anything, Tony wanted to be like that fire.

Instead, he was here, in Afghanistan- or was it a lab in New York City?- his freedom stripped away, locked in chains, held down and bound to someone else's will. He was being slowly bent, ever closer to snapping in two. And there was so much _loneliness_ here, just another straw that might break the camel's back. All Tony wanted was to be home, with Loki, in snowy white arms, holding-

"Tony? Hey, man, you okay?" Bruce's warm hand landed lightly on his shoulder, and reality came flooding back. He was safe. He was in New York City. Loki was within walking distance.

He shook his head, cleaning away the remnants of the memories. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just daydreaming." He smiled at Banner. Luckily, the man just gave him an unsure look and didn't ask anymore questions. Tony had more than he could handle with Loki's increasingly worried glances and protective touches, and the way he'd wrap himself around Tony every night like he might disappear if Loki didn't hold on tight enough. It broke Tony's heart. He wasn't the only one haunted by those six months. He knew that much.

He looked back down at the white counter-top before him.

He needed a drink.

* * *

Loki took a deep breath, shivering- and it wasn't _just_ from the cold- and trying to remember what oxygen was and how his lungs worked. But it was _okay._ This was _okay._ It was going to be _okay._ Nevertheless, he gripped his phone a bit tighter, reminding himself that rescue was mere seconds away- not that he was a damsel in distress. And _yeah,_ he was becoming a little _less_ independent than he had always prided himself on being, and yeah, he needed to remember what sweet, _sweet_ liberty was. But right now, he didn't _care._ This was Ground Zero.

He walked into the restaurant, his emerald eyes sweeping the dusky room for a golden-spun head of hair. That same golden hair he had always wondered _why_ he hadn't inherited, and had made him hate his inky curls with an unprecedented passion. But it had always been that way for him, looking at others and always wondering why he was different. Why couldn't he just be normal? He had always been all _alone_ in everything; his sexuality, his heritage, his intelligence, his frailty. His parents were strong and average, all blonde hair and blue eyes and tanned skin and muscles, while he was a painful pale and overworking brain and long inky curls and green eyes like a cat. He had punched mirrors to pieces for the reflection that scorned and scoffed at him.

_"Loki!"_ A high, feminine voice that had sung him to sleep, and told him bedtime stories all his growing up years, called to him.

He felt his spine stiffen, and every muscle go tense. "Frigga." He smiled tersely and turned to face the beaming woman. Her blue eyes were wet, he noticed. There was an air of desperation and adoration about her. Again, he reminded himself that _this_ wasn't her doing, it was Odin and Thor's. "So good to see you." No, it wasn't, but who would notice another white lie among the arsenal that seemed to trail behind him.

"Oh, _son,"_ He couldn't keep his smile from fading, or the light in his eyes from switching off. "I've missed you so!" Her step faltered, but she wrapped him in an awkward hug that made his skin tingle uncomfortably.

Loki _hated_ hugs. (Except for the one's Stark gave him that lifted him off his feet and swung him around.)

"Come, come. I have a table for us." She took his hand- yet another touch he absolutely _abhorred_ from all but Anthony and Natasha- and pulled him to a quiet booth in the back of the darkly lit restaurant. "How have you been?" Her eyes were alive in the dark light and seemed to be searching his face for _something._ He ducked his head and stared at his menu.

"Fine." His voice was nearing a whisper in the serenity of their little cubicle.

"Thor tells me you and your boyfriend are doing well?" She smiled at him, her hands twisting in front of her.

He sighed and sat back. "Frigga..." This wasn't easy. "What are you doing?" He wasn't deflecting from he and Stark- _well,_ not _entirely-_ he wanted to know what this was about. For some insane reason, he had the feeling he wasn't going to like her answer.

She looked down, her smile disappearing for the first time. "Well, I wanted to see my son, of course." Loki flinched at the word _'son'_ like he'd been slapped. "You're still my son, Loki. No matter what your father or brother have done. And I assure you-"

_"No."_ The word was firm. Loki had been through _enough,_ from everyone. "Frigga, I am not your son. You adopted me, and kept the truth from me for _years._ I understand that you couldn't _possibly_ understand how confused that made me, when I was growing up _and_ when you told me, but it doesn't excuse your actions. I went through my entire life, wondering _why_ I was so fucking _different._ Come to find out, it was because I was a dirty _lie."_ His eyes were stinging, his mouth trembling a bit. His hands were fists at his sides, but he wasn't done. "I have gone through _so_ much abuse in my life. You can't understand, because you aren't _me._ But I will not allow _anyone-_ including _Odin Odinson-_ to beat me down any longer. I don't _care_ about your assurances, or your claims to be my parent. You _aren't._ Your assurances mean _nothing._ The people who've hurt me, don't intend to stop. The only way I can stay sane, or be okay, is to cut those people off. To keep them out of my life." He shook his head. "I came here out of courtesy for you, Frigga. But I'm _tired._ I am done fighting." He stood, leaning down in front of her to bring their eyes level. "I love you, for being the mother I never had." Gently, he wiped away the tears under her eyes with long thumbs. Her hands gripped his wrists despondently. "But I cannot- and will not- stay under your husband or your son any longer. Can't you see what I've been through?" He begged her to understand, he needed her to. For once in Loki's life, he needed a little _closure._

She took his thin wrist in her hand, and turned it over, bearing pale white skin marred by a jagged dark red line. "Yes, son. I _can_ see what you've been through. But I cannot just let you go." Her blue eyes gazed up at him, swimming in her tears. "You are _mine,_ Loki Odinson. I don't care who bore you, who gave birth to you. You have been mine since the day I saw you. And I will _not_ just give you my blessing to disappear." She gripped him, pulling him down closer to her face. "_I love you_, because you _are my son."_ The crack in her voice tore a little fissure in the scarred material that composed Loki's heart. So many times, people had trampled him down, ripped him to shreds, jerked the chains around his neck- and now, Frigga was trying to piece him together. She was trying to take random pieces from different puzzles, and force them together.

Loki shook his head, pulling back from her jerkily. "Then I will go without your blessing." So much for closure. "Goodbye, my _dear_ Frigga. Thank you. And I _am_ sorry." With a kiss to her cheek, he turned and left.

Tears bundled up in his chest with a tightness he hadn't felt in years.

* * *

Tony stared up at the sky from his balcony, a beer in his hand and the sun warming his face. It felt good after being in the air-conditioned lab all day, to just feel the natural, warm air of the outside. In front of him, New York City sprawled long and hard-faced, like a beautiful woman who'd been through too much in too many years. The City was a cougar, seducing young men with her beauty, pulling them in and under, suffocating them in dark perfume and too much sex and the allure of something matured and a little wrinkled, but still as graceful as ever. It was _his_ city, and it always had been.

His phone buzzed on the armrest, where he'd laid it a few minutes ago. Loki. "Hey there, stud." He smiled out at the city, feeling it crinkle the edges of his eyes.

"Stark...I just left the restaurant." That was a lie. There was a distinct slur in his words. "It _was...horrible."_ A wet sniffle was muffled on the other line. Tony rubbed his eyes. "I told her she wasn't my mom." He coughed, covering a sob, Tony guessed. "And, you know, she cried, and told me I wasn't allowed to leave her life. And, I really didn't _want_ to, but what can I do? I mean, I can't just allow them to control me anymore, _can_ I? Did I do the wrong thing, Anthony? Am I a terrible person?" The innocence and brokenness in Loki's voice was too much for Tony to handle. He sounded like a little kid, again.

"No, _no,_ baby, of course you aren't. Where are you, honey? Let me come get you, okay?" Tony let his voice slip into that low, almost growling tone that Loki adored. It was his morning voice, the soothing tone he used right after they woke up tangled up in each other's arms. It was the tone he used right after Loki woke him from a nightmare, and started whispering seductive things in his ears and they found warmth in each other's arms. It was the voice he used for _Loki,_ and Loki_ alone._

Loki sniffed, and Tony could _practically_ see him wiping at his nose with a sleeve. "Okay. I'm at that bar on 3rd." Where Tony had taken him not long ago, a place where the bartender wouldn't care what his age was, merely because he was Tony's friend. Smart kid.

"Okay, honey. I'm gonna come get you, okay? Don't leave." He was already sprinting to his car. "You stay right where you are, alright?"

"I love you." Loki whispered, sounding sleepy and more upset than he had in a long time.

"I love you, baby. I'm coming." He started his car, zooming into traffic and weaving through cars. The only thing he wanted was his drunk, heartbroken boyfriend, safe in his arms.

* * *

Steve glared at Clint. "Look, Tony has been this way for years, Steve. It's not like you're suddenly gonna 'fix' him." Clint growled, glaring back at the foot taller, stronger man.

"I'm not _trying_ to 'fix' him. And it doesn't _matter_ what you think. Just because you have some crush on him doesn't mean you're the authority on _who_ Tony is. I've known him since he was a kid!" Steve was starting to shout. Natasha sent a warning glance their way, if they got her kicked out of the library...well, Clint preferred not to think about _what_ she'd do to them.

"Are you really pulling the 'I've known him longer' bullshit? I don't care. At least I'm not shoving my philosophy down his throat, Steve. And don't give me the crush shit. If anyone has a crush on Tony, it's you. You used to really care about him, y'know. I admired that about you. Before Loki was around, you were holding his head over the toilet and taking care of him when he was too drunk to function. But now Loki's around, and Tony's _o-fucking-k_. For the first time, he's alright, and you're stirring up all this shit about his...addiction." Clint cast a furtive glance around.

Sure, it was pretty well-known that Tony wasn't a _saint._ But his Adderall addictions had been kept under wraps, somehow. Although, anyone with eyes could see when the kid was too drugged to function. Hawkeye still remembered the first night Tony had shown up at his dorm, slurring about drinking too much and how funny it was driving his dad's car into a fountain at some fancy party. Clint didn't even ask, just watching him rant and rave and look at him with weird-looking eyes and waving his arms around like he could paint the words in the air. It had made him wonder, what had fucked with Tony so bad to turn him into this? A druggie, a drunk, a genius with a giant chasm between him and happiness. From that moment forward, he'd decided to protect this kid. Because there was no one so _fragile,_ so easy to bend and break.

"Because it's _back._ Clint, you can see it. Loki _isn't_ curing him. He needs _treatment."_ The fervor in his eyes caught Clint's attention. For once, he was really _hearing_ what Steve said, because right now, Steve wasn't ranting about god or moral or anything. He was talking about _Tony._ And what _Tony_ needed.

Was he right?

* * *

Loki giggled against Stark's shoulder, feeling himself getting more and more flirty. Anthony was drinking it up like the near-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. "You're _so_ cute." His boyfriend purred in that deeper than 10,000-leagues-under-the-sea voice.

Is it possible for humans to melt, because Loki's pretty sure he is under those brown eyes.

"Let's dance." And then, Loki's being pulled out under flashing lights over a shaking floor amidst a bunch of shaking, wiggling, and gyrating dancing people. In any other situation, he'd be hyperventilating. But then there's Stark's eyes, and his heart feels like it's beating _way_ too fast, and he's grinning at the inventor turned lover, and man, his boyfriend is _sexy._

What is happening.

Fun Fact#21: Loki doesn't say _'sexy'._ It's too objectifying. This has changed. Because, have you _seen_ his boyfriend?

Seductive, powerful arms wrap around him, pulling him close enough to feel the ever-present heat practically radiating off Stark's body. He loops his arms around Anthony's neck, feeling his fingers curl up into his hair with a mind of their own. Soft curls slid between his fingers and Anthony presses a quick kiss to his lips, humming appreciatively against his mouth. Loki grins. _Again._ Because today went from shitty to perfect in a few hours with a pint-sized inventor who turned his world inside out and upside down. And that was completely okay with him. Although, his overworking heart might have a _few_ complaints.

Brown eyes turned to molten chocolate as they gazed down at him. You know that whole melting thing? It's happening again. And they're getting closer, and Loki's noticing how _perfect_ Anthony's lips, and nose, and eyes, and hair, and cheekbones, and skin tone, and ears- and oh, they're kissing again. But this time, it's _different._ Different from every kiss they've ever had before. It's all soft and seductive and super sexual, and yeah, Loki's got a feeling he can kind of read Stark's _mind_ right about now.

"I want you to be mine." It was breathed against his neck, preceding a soft, biting kiss against his jugular. Heat coursed through him, because after over a year, Stark can still get him a little _too_ hot for comfort, only he can make all that interminable chill go _away._

And then it's branding fingers touching his skin and Loki's mind is a _whirlwind,_ and all he really wants is to go back to the apartment and get in Stark's bed and feel all of Stark's heat in it's _full_ force. But no, they're back at the bar, and Anthony's getting them something strong to drink and Loki can't help but smile and lean on Stark because there's really nothing better than right now. There's never been a moment so fully encompassing and so hot and so messy, and it's so freeing to be with this crazy motherfucker he's falling more in love with each passing day. For the first time in _ever,_ Loki's so perfectly comfortable and loose and free and he can just flirt and seduce and smile and laugh. And it's _okay,_ there's nothing regimental or reticently composed about this. It's just him and the boy he's so in love with it's driving him _insane._

"Tell me something, Mr. Stark." He purred, Anthony really couldn't have been closer to him without melding them into one body. "Do you _normally_ look so god damn _sexy?"_

Anthony collapsed against him, giggling like a school boy. He could feel the waves of his laughter deep inside his chest, booming along with his heartbeat. And really, Loki's beginning to wonder _exactly_ what this night is moving towards. Because, they _haven't_ had sex yet. And he's pretty sure Anthony has _never_ been without sex this long. And really, it's been two years for Loki and right now his sex drive and sexual frustration has reached some sort of _vicious_ zenith that's hitting him real _hard_ right about _now._

"Here you boys go." Two drinks were placed in front of them. "Two Irish Trash Cans." The man shook his head and walked away.

Loki looked at the drink suspiciously. "What's _in_ this?" He sniffed it, immediately squinting at the strong smell of alcohol assaulting his nose.

Anthony grinned. "A _lot_ of alcohol." He giggled. "And red bull."

Loki sighed, "Cheers, Anthony." And, since he was being, you know, _crazy_ tonight- or _something-_ he gulped down a full sip of the drink. Squinting? More like squeezing his eyes shut and wondering why the _hell_ he had started drinking again.

Alcohol? More like nail polish remover.

"Am I going to die?" He rasped, coughing and trying to figure out if he had been poisoned, or if there really was _that_ much alcohol in the world.

"No, darling. Burns a little, doesn't it?" A nuzzling kiss that smelled like liquor and cayenne and science touched his lips.

"A _little."_ The sarcastic tone in his voice made Stark grin against his mouth.

More kisses that, in _any_ other moment, would have Loki's face on fire. But right now, when he's drunk and Anthony is in the general vicinity, and there's too many hormones floating around for _anyone_ to ignore- Loki's just peachy. I mean, sure, he hasn't been this drunk in a good long time, and sure, he's gonna regret getting this drunk in the morning; but right now, he doesn't care if the world collapses in on itself in the morning. Right now, everything is _perfect._

"I want you." The words are whispered in his ear, with warm lips kissing right under his ear in that soft place that no one ever really remembers or thinks about until someone's lips are there and it's fucking erotic and seductive and way too hot for anyone to ever forget it.

"You _have_ me." He murmured, letting himself be pulled between Stark's legs, standing with his arms around Anthony's neck and a smile on his lips and his eyes so connected with Anthony's that there must have been a _magnet_ pulling them closer and closer with each passing second.

"No, I mean, I _want_ you." And the look in Anthony's eyes left absolutely _no_ question as to _exactly_ what he meant. Loki had never seen so much lust and love in one person's expression.

"Let's get out of here." He whispered, falling into that unfathomable look that promised love and affection Loki couldn't _begin_ to comprehend.

Loki couldn't say he'd never been seduced before, but he can say without a shadow of a doubt, that he never wants to be seduced by _anyone_ other than Anthony Stark ever again.

* * *

Tony pushed Loki against the door, kissing him in the hallway and losing his fucking mind for the nth time tonight. His skin has _never_ been so on fire, so sensitive to every feather-light touch from spindly fingers that make his mind go wild. All he wants is Loki, Loki, _Loki, **Loki.**_ The name is on repeat in his mind like a broken record. Loki is all he can think, feel, desire, lust after. Girls? Vagina? Do these things exist? Do these things have meaning? Should he remember what they are?

Loki has wiped women off the planet.

His hands tangle themselves in inky curls, wrapping the raven tresses around his fingers tightly and lustfully. Loki's hands are gripping his shirt desperately, like Tony is _all_ he needs, _all_ he wants, like Tony means just as much to him as Loki means to Tony. And Tony _can't_ believe that's true, that anyone could need him like he needs Loki, that a soul could ever feel so _much_ desire for a human being as he feels for Loki. Because there's something undesirable about him, something dirty, something soiled, something a little tainted. But the boy in his arms, moving his mouth with Tony's, and holding Tony like he'll _never_ let go, is pure and untarnished and unstained and untouched. And he knows exactly what Loki's been through, and the trauma he's endured at the hands of another, but tonight, Tony is going to _erase_ all of that. He's going to _prove_ to Loki that love is gentle and kind and soft. And it won't hurt him. Tony is going to give Loki a _reason_ to trust him.

He fumblingly finds the doorknob, twisting the key and pushing the snowy-skinned, inky-haired, skinny teenager back into the apartment, hands possessive around Loki's hips, bracketing him tightly in between his fingers. He reaches behind him, shoving the door closed, and walking Loki backward towards his room. The apartment is dark as fuck and they trip and stumble and catch each other over pieces of clothing and wayward furniture and a few discarded beer bottles and chip bags and an empty pizza box.

By the time they get to Tony's bed, they're breathing each other's air and tugging on clothing and Tony's whispering nonsense in Loki's ear and he really can't think straight any longer. They fall together, bouncing once on the springy mattress, the blankets tangled up beneath them. Loki's mouth moves lazily with his, and their fingers twine together, Tony pushing Loki's hands down on the bed. It's hot, and all Tony wants is for their clothes to _disappear_ and everything to be shoved into that buck-naked, summertime heat that turns everything into love and tenderness and passion. All he can think about is getting off the clothes that are separating them, about removing _every_ obstacle between them- even if he knows its a _lot_ more than just pieces of fabric. And there are so _many_ trust issues in this moment for them both, crowding about the room like voyeuristic spectators. But they're ignored for the far more fascinating view of each other. Loki and Tony.

Loki and Tony are all that _exists._

There's no air.

There's no sun.

There's no moon.

There are no stars.

There are no people.

There are no parents.

There is no family.

Loki and Tony alone.

Tony tugs at Loki's shirt, sitting back and helping him pull it off. Then Tony sheds his shirt, falling back into an embrace that is imprinted on his skin forever, feeling fingers trace his arc reactor lovingly. "You're so beautiful." It's all he can think, all he can see. The beauty of Loki, of Loki's person, his mind, his soul. It's all so flawed and torn and stitched together and patched up. There are scars all across his body, dancing across the white skin of his arms and ribs. He wants to kiss each one, to promise love towards every mark Loki has ever made on his skin or has ever been made for him. He wants to wash away all the pain in those swaths of skin. So he does. He kisses each and every one, listening to Loki's ragged breathing and telling him over and over again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the most beautiful thing Tony's ever seen.

"Come here." Loki pulls his head back up to him, connecting their lips and running his hands down Tony's chest and abdomen, toying with the buttons on his jeans. But, he pulls back, a question in his eyes.

A question Tony answers with a resounding _yes._

* * *

The summertime heat arrives when their pants are on the floor and Loki's panting and his eyes are blown and connected with Tony's. Two pure white legs are draped over Tony's shoulders. He grips the sheets in one hand, curls his fingers in Loki's hair in the other. Then they're kissing and everything is getting faster and hotter and Tony can barely think. He wraps his hand around Loki's cock, keeping tempo with his own thrusts.

Tony's never seen any one so breathtaking in his arms before. Literally, Tony almost _couldn't_ breathe. Stars were starting to explode in front of his eyes and everything was getting a little white around the edges and Loki was moaning and breathing his name in the most yearning and seductive voice Tony could ever remember hearing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _Anthony."_ Loki's back arched and Tony pressed their lips together and felt long eyelashes flutter against his cheek when Loki gasped into his mouth.

Tony's fingers dug into the mattress and something wet spread across his hand the same time he hit his climax and the world exploded into something that blurred the edges and made the horizons dance and made Loki thrum with so much energy and sinew and pure skin that he _couldn't_ take his eyes off him.

In mere seconds, Loki felt boneless in his hands and he fell onto the bed beside him, panting and trying to calm his heart. Loki's legs were still sprawled across him, and his skin felt like fire against him, but it was perfectly warm and everything was heavy and dense and hazy. He was sleepy and Loki smelled too good, so he wrapped his arm around the being beside him that smelled of evergreen and winter and eucalyptus and mint and lavender and love. This being turned into a kitten, curling into him and rubbing his nose against Tony's collarbone and practically purring under his fingers running up and down Loki's spine. Tony pulled him tight in his arms, murmuring sweet words he'd never heard but always wanted to say, pressing kisses against Loki's neck like he wanted to show him love in it's most tangible form, to press it into Loki's skin so he could carry it with him forever.

"You have no idea how wonderful you are, Anthony." Loki murmured, groggy and halfway asleep, his verdant eyes closed and his lips bitten red and his skin like paper that had love written all across it in kisses and bites and soft touches. Tony saw his signature in the crook of Loki's neck and jaw.

Sleepy and sloppy, they kissed goodnight. Then Loki's face pushed against his shoulder, and his hair fanned across his white back and Tony's tanned chest, and his fingers curled around the other side of Tony's neck, a warm embrace that spread throughout him like sunshine.

His eyes closed of their own accord, and he and Loki fell asleep, tangled in each other, naked and warmer than an Indian summer. The stars kept watch, the moon smiled crookedly, and the alcohol thrummed softly in their bodies. In every tragedy, there is love.

* * *

Loki woke up, smiling. Sex was heavy in the air, laying over them like a blanket. Outside, grey light was just starting to awake, opening it's eyes to a world unchanged. But _something_ had changed in Loki's orbit. Something very perfect had happened. _Finally._

He curled closer into Stark's body heat, pulling a blanket over and around them. Anthony's arms wrapped around him tightly, subconsciously willing him to stay in bed, to stay together. It was too perfect to leave. It was Sunday. All he wanted was to stay in bed with his lover forever, to never leave this euphoric bubble where there was no tragedy or trauma, where love was a thing that held you close and promised to love you. Here, everything was gentle and tender and loving. Nothing was harsh or beaten or broken. Loki _loved_ this place, this moment, this notion that he could be safe. Not for the first time, Anthony changed the game.

And yeah, there was a little ache in his back, and the muscles in his legs pulled in complaint, and his head was starting to feel heavy with a headache and in his stomach, alcohol roiled angrily. But it was okay, because he could bury himself in Anthony's arms and a warm blanket and complete nakedness, and forget that there was pain and that reality would catch up eventually. Right now, he was living in a fairytale world where trust and love and happiness _existed._

God _help_ whoever shattered that world.

* * *

Tony stretched, groaning when his muscles tugged against each other with that good ache that came after a fantastic night. All he could feel was Loki and the lazy aftereffects of love that made him want to just sleep with his lover for the rest of eternity. And since it was Sunday, he could. He _would._

But his god damn phone was buzzing.

And come to think of it, that was what had awoken him. With a groan, he considered just turning it off and forgetting people existed for another 24 hours. In his arms, it seemed Loki had already done that, eyes closed and long raven lashes throwing feathery shadows over his pale cheekbones. A perfect smile adorned his face softly. Tony traced it with a fingertip, imprinting the feel of it on his heart for eternity.

Then he looked at his phone.

_14 missed calls from Obadiah._ A feeling of dread started in Tony's chest. It began to ring again, and this time he answered. "What's wrong?" There was a shake in his quiet voice, careful not to wake Loki.

"Tony, your dad's had a heart attack."

* * *

A/N: **Whoop. Sex. Yeah. Um, it's my first 'scene'. So, don't be too harsh. I'm sure it's a little rough haha. BUT REVIEW. Tell me how terrible it is (be gentle, I beg of you.). And about the alcohol thing, um. I've never had anything really strong (yet), so don't judge me if I got all of that totally wrong. **

**But, SEX.**

**And it's longer.**

**And I love you all.**

**And I'm sorry.**

**REVIEWWWW, pwease?**

**xoxox, Rayn.**


	22. Chapter 22- A Letter

A/N:** The title song is A Letter by La Dispute. It's really more Tony than Loki. And more me and my state of mind while writing this than anything. It has had a huge impact on this chapter. And La Dispute is like...my world? Yeah.**

**WARNING: All the same shit. Dealing with loss, grief, life, addictions (including, but not really limited to, self-harm and alcoholism). Do not read this if you will be triggered. The last thing I want is for anyone to turn to an addiction because of something I've written. I want you guys to heal. To be strong. To be okay. Depression is a serious thing. Get help if you need it. If you just need to talk, message me. I'm always here for anyone who needs to talk. I love all of you people, and I know how hard it is to deal with depression/addictions on your own. So, don't. Talk to someone.**

**xoxox**

* * *

Loki woke up slowly, feeling his source of heat suddenly jolt. The hell? First of all, when was Anthony ever awake before Loki, and second, why was he moving? Loki's trying to sleep here, babe.

"What do you mean? Is he okay? I mean, is he in the hospital or something?" There was a touch of panic in Anthony's voice, throwing Loki into defense mode. Then the words sunk in. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

His eyes blinked open sluggishly. God, he _hated_ mornings.

_"Okay._ Uh. Yeah." Loki looked up to see Anthony rubbing his eyes and blinking back tears. Someone tell Loki what _happened_ before he loses his shit.

Anthony hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling blankly. "My dad is dead." His voice was monotone, emotionless, numbed. "He had a heart attack late last night, probably some time around midnight. Obie found him this morning, on the kitchen floor."

Loki's heart stopped. "Oh, Anthony, I'm _so_ sorry." He wrapped his arms around the boy's neck, trying not to flinch at the lifeless response. A hand touched his, and then, Stark was standing.

"I have to go to the hospital. I'm sorry, this ruined our day. But, hopefully it won't take long. I just have to talk to Obie, so, it shouldn't be more than an hour or two." The brown eyes that looked into his were switched off, like a light.

Loki nodded, watching him get dressed and walk out the door. His head was spinning and he was nauseous after last night's events. Coffee brewed, stirring up the life in him that had started to dwindle the minute Stark told him the news. He couldn't shake the feeling that something inside Anthony had died- something neither of them realized he had. He had _loved_ his father. It didn't shock Loki. Anthony was a kind, caring, forgiving person.

What scared him the most, is that all of this would start the true downfall of Anthony Stark. We all break, we all fall, we all lose our minds at some point. But there are some of us that _must_ hit rock bottom, before we see the light at the end of the tunnel. There are some destined to never-ending tragedy, which will break us into puzzle pieces that never really, truly _fit._ There are those of us destined to climb _forever_ to reach happiness, that elusive zenith all humans desire- but few ever reach. And others, must break their skull open upon the lowest point in their life, and watch that light fade away, out of their reach.

* * *

Obadiah Stane looked down at the cold, grey face of his old friend. In those last months, they hadn't been close. After Tony was kidnapped, Howard began to withdraw, getting older by the second and more haggard with each passing day. It was guilt, regret, resentment in every glance those old brown eyes sent his way. But how could Obadiah apologize? It had saved Howard's hide, keeping his business afloat after Tony wrecked it in one fell-swoop. And _hell,_ the kid was a pain in the ass anyways. It was nice to have him out of their hair, until, of course, he escaped.

The Ten Rings were supposed to _kill_ Tony. He was supposed to be dead, buried in some desert grave with a bunch of looters and thieves and felled terrorists. But _no._ Raza had failed him. But now, now they had a new mission. They were going to rebuild that suit of Tony's. It would be the young genius's _last_ golden egg.

* * *

Tony walked into the hospital without really seeing anything he passed. Not the dying man who was coughing up a lung in the E.R., to the little bald girl in the cancer ward. The nurses who pointed him in the right direction were faceless replicas. The doctor who spoke in a droning monotone was speaking another, banausic language that vaguely resembled English. Everything blurred together behind a mantra in his head: _I never got to say goodbye, he's dead, and I never said I'm sorry or goodbye or I love you. _

Thoughts plagued him:

"_Did he know I loved him? Did I ever tell him? Ever? Did he love me? Should I be grieving right now? Should I cry? Can I cry? There are no tears. I'm a terrible person, because I can't even mourn my own father's death. He's gone. I'll never see him again. Never tell him I'm sorry, or that I wanted him to be proud of me, or that I cared about him. I'll never know what he truly thought of me- or do I? Did he really think I killed mom? **Did** I kill mom? How will I take over a fucking business. This was his dream, not mine. His, not mine. He, not me. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. He has to come back. This has to be a cruel joke. I'm not ready for this. I'm not..."_

But when he saw Stane's face, he knew it was no joke. Howard Anthony Walter Stark was truly _gone._ Truly dead. The great inventor had drawn his last breath, had said his goodbyes to the world in the middle of the night. Alone. Because we all die _alone,_ we all face the Great Beyond all by ourselves. No one can go with us. And on the other side, no one will meet us. Nothing will greet us there, because there is _nothing._ He was nothing. He was gone. As far as Tony could tell, he had never existed, really. Do any of us ever exist? Or do we merely live on in the waves that trail behind in our wake?

Howard had never made any waves in Tony's life. He had broken him down, beaten him like a dead horse. He had changed Tony, perhaps, for the _worse._ Tony was harder, less loving, numb because of Howard Stark. Howie had never been a father, and Tony doubted that would have changed- _even_ if the man had known he was dying. Howard was an unchanging man, hard and stony. The only time Tony had ever seen anything _alive_ in his eyes, was when he looked at Maria. Tony had been unnecessary, inconsequential to him.

These are the memories Tony has of his father:

_Tony strolled into his father's office. "Hiya, pop." He flopped into a chair, facing the stoic man who looked at him with an unimpressed brow arched. "I need money. Some friends are coming into town, so we're gonna go out. Party. Get drunk. Ya know, the usual." He shrugged. Not the truth, but not entirely a lie. And what did Howard care? Tony was gonna spend his money, get thrown in jail, Howard would call in a favor, yada_ yada **yada.**_ -yawn- it was all so boring_, _the_ same_ song and dance._

_Howard glanced back down at the small pile of paperwork beneath his hands. A small splotch of ink stained his finger. Tony took it all in with over-sharp senses, set to the highest sensitivity because Adderall wasn't_ that_ helpful any longer. Tolerance, is that you? Come again to save Tony from killing himself in an overdose? Because, you know, it wasn't like he had taken_ too many_ for the past two years or anything. Sixteen, and he was already an addict._

_"How much?" Howard asked, a sigh of wariness in his voice. Dad was getting_ old.

_Tony stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, tallying up all the possible costs he could rack up in one night._ Thousands._ There were perks to being the son of a billionaire. "Just give me a card, I guess." He shrugged, studying his fingers nonchalantly._

_Tony was raising himself, and doing a damn_ terrible_ job of it. But hey, who_ cared?

_No one._

_Twelve hours later, he's in a squad car, staring absentmindedly at a Lamborghini half-submerged in a fountain, wheels still spinning. There was a gushing cut on his forehead running blood to his eyes, courtesy of the shattered windshield, which was laying in glittering shards all across the driveway of the ritzy hotel. He couldn't remember what it was called now. Something expensive, fancy, snobby. All the people who had their heads up their asses and dollar signs in their eyes stayed here. Tony enjoyed_ destroying_ the beautiful belongings of the rich and famous. Especially when one of those belongings was his father's Lamborghini Murcielago, cherry-pop red and glimmering clean. Until he'd shattered the windshield and driven it head-first into a very expensive sculpture in the middle of a deep fountain, said sculpture had cracked clean-through and was now laying in a very Leaning-Tower-of-Piza-reminiscent state. _

_But he wasn't smiling._

* * *

Loki sprawled across the floor, smoking a cigarette- thank you, Anthony- and staring at the ceiling. Thoughts were rolling over him like tsunami waves, each one knocking him further and further _down._

1) Who are you?

2) Do you miss Odin?

3) What are you going to do when he dies?

4) Do you want to have more regrets?

5) Is Anthony _okay?_

6) What will you say when he gets home? Something sweet, something philosophical? How will you deal with this, Loki, when you can't even deal with your _own_ losses?

Because really, Loki had never learned how to cope with loss. He remembered always wondering, how would he deal with it when someone he was close to died? Would he cry? Would he just take it in stride? Would he be there for others who also were close to this person? Would he be the rock that all turned to? Or would he break down, collapse, fall to the pit of the earth because his world shattered?

It turned out, it was the latter.

_Loki walked into the kitchen beside Thor, grinning at some lewd joke the bigger, older, far more straight young man had told him. He wasn't really the crude joke type, but that one hadn't been half-bad (unlike the majority of Thor's jokes). It was all smiles until he looked up at his mom, seeing the look of pure sorrow on her face._

_"What? What happened?" Something bad had happened, and his mother had tears in her eyes. Cue the entrance of two very over-protective sons. He and Thor were by her side in an instant._

_But she turned to_ him._ Big, sorrowful blue eyes that contained a thousand apologies locked on his forest green eyes. "Loki, you need to sit down." She took his hand as he perched on the edge of a chair. "Frey got in a car accident." _

_The world slipped off it's axis, and the sky came raining down. _

_Loki's world was_ destroyed_ in one simple phrase. _

_Frey, a boy his age, was his world. They were best friends, closeted buddies that had taken abuse from_ everyone_ in their life. They had more in common than anyone Loki had ever known, and their lives ran parallel to one another. But it was_ more_ than that. Frey was Loki's first love, the first_ man_ he had ever adored, the first person (other than Thor) that he knew he would give his life for without a second thought. Frey was_ his._ And he was Frey's. _

_"He died, Loki. I'm so sorr-" But Loki pulled out of her grip on his hand, tears already streaming from his eyes. All he could think, all he could do, was_ run.

_So he ran. Ran back to that place where they'd met. Where they had kissed, and hugged, and lost their innocence to one another, given it away for safe keeping. There was love in those nights when they laid below the stars and laughed at silly childhood memories- times when things hadn't seemed quite so bleak. Nights filled to the brim with silence and peace that they couldn't find anywhere but in each other's company. Together, they had mourned their lost happiness, they had cherished moments of fleeting contentedness. _

_Now, it was all_ over.

_Ruined._

_Gone._

_Done._

_Never again, would Loki and Frey sit under_ their_ oak tree, where their initials were carved inside a heart. Never would they hold hands and smile in silence, because they had each other despite the hell that their lives had become. Never would Loki have an anchor to hold him to this earth. Never would he see that rare smile filled with sharp teeth and dancing grey eyes. Never would he run his hands through hair as pitch black as his, and tease Frey about his curly hair. Never would he have a person so like him, that he wouldn't feel so fucking alone. _

_He was alone._

_Frey had_ abandoned_ him._

_And that's when it broke, the levee holding back the tears, the screams, the anguish that was now baring down on him like a steamroller. He hit his knees, in front of that tree, under the cloudy sky, and screamed. All those happy moments, filled with silence, were shattered. All those years when he had trusted Frey with his darkest secrets and the truths to every lie he told, were splintered by that shout, that yell, that banshee utterance of rage and sadness and pain so deep, it cut through his very core._

_He wanted, he_ wanted,_ he_ **wanted**_ him back._

* * *

**Two weeks later.**

* * *

Tony walked up behind Loki and wrapped his arms around his waist, placing a kiss against his neck. It had been _too_ long since he had been able to hold him. The company was keeping him busy, and school took up the rest of what little time he had left over. He was so tired, he could fall asleep on his feet. The mirror had showed him a mere _shadow_ of himself two weeks ago, when he'd looked at his reflection this morning. It wasn't a surprise. He had been losing weight like _crazy._ None of his clothes fit. His hair nearly reached his shoulder, and their were dark circles ringing his eyes- it made their old caramel brown look ink black.

But _Loki._ Loki was a sight for sore eyes. He was beautiful, turning to look at him with eyes the color of the sea, shining and glimmering in the pale light of autumn. He was a perfect contrast to the red and yellow and brown leaves that fell like rain every day, behind him, over him, under him. Loki was _all_ Tony could see, sometimes. He was all he could focus on that didn't make him want to go crazy. It was scary, how Loki was like his anchor, his hold on reality and what little happiness could be conjured up in Tony's life. And all he wanted to do was hold him, to squeeze him ever closer and ever tighter, until they were just one person, one body, until Loki had consumed him. Because today, Tony could see _no_ light in the world except for Loki. Loki was the sun, throwing pretty, happy rays of luminescence on the world with his soft smile and worried eyes and sharp cheekbones and snow colored skin.

So, Tony pulled him closer, pulled him tighter, until the boy was grinning and wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing a petal-soft kiss against him with his rose-colored lips, and murmuring how much he had missed him as he twirled Tony's curls around his fingers. He asked him how the company was, and the underlying question of how he was coping with his father's death. It amazed Tony, sometimes, how they could ask two things at once, and read the meaning behind the words and the desperation behind the smiles and the sad tears hidden behind pretty eyes.

"It's okay. Obie won't get off my back. He wants me to work on this project with him that my dad had started before..." He shrugged, trailing off before he could say _that._ There was something unspeakable about the death of his father. "Anyways, I told him I didn't want to build weapons." Because at heart, Tony is a pacifist. And he hates guns and weapons and really, anything that hurts anyone- except _himself,_ obviously.

Loki pulled back, slipping his hand in Tony's, and leaning against his shoulder. The cool chill of the fall broke through his jacket, making his skin flinch and goosebumps race across his flesh. "What was the project?" Loki's voice was sleepy. They sat down against a tree, Loki resting his legs across Tony's lap and curling up tight against his side, shivering slightly.

Tony wrapped his arms around the shivering being he adored. "A missile, I think. Dad was always one for big things that went boom." Again, he shrugged. Showing any feeling just hurt too _much._

"And you're one for small things that go boom." The boy murmured, his voice deeper than usual, sounding almost sleepy.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

He knew what Loki was saying, _'You two really aren't that different, Anthony.'_ And maybe he was right. Maybe they weren't. But didn't that mean that one day, he would become the same cold, old man his father had been? Would he be bitter, alone, angry at the world and setting out to destroy it for a nice monetary sum? Would he be bent over his first love- science-, while his one and only mistress- whiskey- sat by his side forever? Would he be alone? Would this loneliness that permeated his pores, and soul, and every orifice in his body, stick around forever?

Was _this_ Tony's future?

And, _should_ he- while he _could-_ leave Loki, so that he could be happy, so that he wouldn't be like Maria Stark- tethered to a man who had a heart smaller than a mustard seed?

* * *

Loki stared at the professor at the front of the class unseeingly. Anthony was pulling away. He was withdrawing, turning inside himself, finding solace in everything that hurt him. Things like whiskey, and Adderall, and science, and insomnia, and misery. He wasn't _trying_ anymore. He wasn't smiling for Loki, or working on cleaning up his act. He was falling, content to fly on the rushing wind beneath him until the ground swooped up to meet him head-on. He had a death wish.

Not a real death. Although, sometimes Loki could swear he saw suicide behind those dark brown eyes. But an internal death, the death of the will to do more than _exist._ Right now, he could see Anthony falling, deeper and deeper. But when he hit rock bottom...what would happen? Would Loki be able to pull him back up? Would Loki be able to save him? Was Loki that strong?

_No._

Loki could barely keep his head above the waves now. The scars on his wrists screamed to him, begged for more, _more, **more**_ blood. Just to make it all go away. Just to make the thoughts, the memories, the aching desire disappear. It seemed to make everything harder, even just being out in public. He cringed deeper into his skin every time foreign eyes fell on him, making him shiver and flinch like he'd been hit. It wasn't anxiety, it wasn't fear, it was a deep-seated desire to _disappear._ If Loki could fall off the face of the earth, he would. Because everything hurt. Everything wounded him. Everything stabbed him in the back.

Anthony's eyes.

Natasha's warnings.

Clint's worry.

Frigga's calls.

Thor's love.

Odin's hate.

The only thing that _loved_ Loki was a razor-blade. The only thing that made him feel whole, tore him apart. The only thing he could trust, whispered lies in his ear, brushing them across his skin. The only thing he believed in, was a cult, a demon, a hellion. The only thing he knew cared for him, was slowly breaking him down, shattering him into little pieces, making him a slave. But isn't that the _truth_ of addiction? It's everything you think it isn't. It's a lie. It's a chain around your necking, insidiously getting tighter until you can't breathe, until you're choking on your own air.

Loki was choking.

* * *

Clint smiled at Natasha, shielding her from the worry bubbling inside him. He hadn't heard from Tony since the man had told him his father died. And since that conversation with Steve, he hadn't been able to get the genius inventor off his mind. What if Steve was right? What if Tony needed help? What if Loki couldn't cure him, like he had seemed to be doing for the past year and a half?

Clint felt burdened by the idea of Tony wallowing in his addictions with no one to spur him into getting help. Of course, there was always the fact that Tony did what _Tony_ wanted, no matter what anyone said to him. The curse of having a best friend with a stubborn head, was having to be their shoulder when they got themselves into something they could no longer escape from. And Clint knew, Tony was going so _far_ down, he wouldn't be able to rise back up.

"Hawk, you can't keep anything from me, you know." Natasha sat down opposite him, gazing with fiery eyes into his. His heart leaped.

He shrugged, wishing for once, that his princess wasn't quite so intuitive. "I'm just thinking about Tony." Because, when Clint wasn't thinking about Nat- which, let's face it, that's a pretty _rare_ occurrence- he's thinking about Tony. And maybe, just maybe, he's always been a little _in love_ with Tony.

She cocked her head, arching one perfect- thanks to Loki and some tweezers- eyebrow. "Why?"

He sighed, slumping back into the couch. "Well, I haven't heard from him for sometime. And..." He looked down at his hands, a little ashamed. "Steve thinks he needs help. Like, rehab or some shit." Because, everyone knew, when it came to Tony Stark, Steve kind of lost his shit.

See, when Tony had arrived in his usual crazy, extravagant, attention-getting way on campus, he'd caught the eyes of two men. One, was Rhodey, who'd graduated and moved to Texas a couple years ago- he was a few years older and halfway through his degree when Tony arrived. The other, was _Steve._ Tony took Steve and turned him into someone no one really recognized. Tony tore Steve from his comfort zone, took away his self-righteous beliefs, and ripped apart his faith. Tony, the ever-whirling tornado of self-hatred and moral degradation, took Steve on a ride he never could have imagined, whipping him up into a whirlwind he _couldn't_ handle. It took Steve a while to realize he 'wasn't in Kansas anymore'. And by the time he had, Steve was neck-deep in love with a man he couldn't fully _understand._

Natasha giggled. "Tony Stark, in rehab? Oh babe, you must live in some fucked-up alternate world." She shook her head. "Tony's too smart for rehab. No. If he wants to change, he will. All by himself." She moved to sit on his lap. "A lone wolf doesn't go to the pack when he needs help. He'd rather die alone."

Clint nodded, because she was _right._ Tony would rather die, than ask for help. He'd rather kill himself with pills and alcohol and all the things that were bad for him, than go to rehab. He would rather live in disorder and pain, than ask someone to schedule his life and kill the pain for him. Tony was a loner. Tony was alone. And except for Loki, Tony always would be.

Perhaps that was Tony's curse.

Perhaps everyone has a curse.

Perhaps Clint's curse, was just caring too much.

* * *

Loki was fast asleep- dreaming of good times long gone- when his bed dipped precariously, jostling him just enough to make him slide one lazy eye open. Black stabbed his pupil and he inwardly thanked whatever gods there were for heavy curtains. Someone mumbled a slur beside him, making him tense. There was someone in his room, someone in his _bed._ His breathing was shallow.

"Lo?" A husky whisper assaulted his ear, followed by the pungent smell of too much whiskey. _"Baby?"_ A cautious finger nudged his shoulder blade.

He frowned and rolled over to look up into a deep sea of liquid brown, hidden by night-time shadows and starvation hollowed eye-sockets. _"Anthony?_ What's wrong?" He took in the brown bag covered bottle clutched in Anthony's hand like a toddler with his 'blankie'. Something heavy settled astride his worn-out heart.

Anthony blinked. "I can't remember how to get home." Half the words were slurred and incoherent to all but someone experienced in dealing with a drunken Anthony. Loki sat up and shoved his sleep-tangled hair off his forehead. Long fingers scrubbed away any signs of the dreams that haunted him.

"Alright, you can sleep here. But we _need_ to talk about this in the morning, darling." He leveled a stern glare on the wayward teenager gazing at him with all the innocence of a newborn puppy. "I'll go get you some water. Give me that." He held a hand for the bottle. Stark eyed him, conceding only when a dark eyebrow was arched against snow-drift skin.

In the kitchen, John Constantine looked at him sleepily. "Your boyfriend is _loud."_ His words were soft, husky, tired. Loki wondered if he looked as exhausted as his dorm-mate.

Loki sighed. "I'm sorry. He's just..." He shrugged. The whole _world_ knew about Howard's death. And his funeral. And how Anthony seemed to be struggling with coping and taking over a business- which was really an empire, a country in and of itself- and becoming the highlight of the media world.

Constantine nodded. "I know. I feel bad for the dude, _really._ But, Loki, I _need_ my sleep. College is exhausting enough without someone banging through the door at _3 a.m._" Loki knew he was right. Hell, at this point, he wasn't really sure how he was making it himself. Weariness seeped through his bones, weighing him down, making him flinch when the sun hit him, turning his skin sallow and his eyes dark.

"I'll talk to him about it in the morning. You get some sleep. There won't be any more commotion tonight." He patted the man on the shoulder, trudging back to his room.

His feet dragged across the carpet, and his eyes were already starting to fall closed of their own accord. Sleep wasn't easy to come by these days. Not with worries for Anthony, not with college getting harder- Christmas break was coming up, and god knows, teachers tried to cram in a whole year in the last week before break- not with dreams and nightmares stalking across his eyelids every time they closed. Saying he was stressed was the understatement of the millennium.

Fun Fact #22: Loki needs sleep like most people need air. Without sleep, he becomes a bitchy PMSing _wolf_ who likes to rip people's heads off for _fun._ Really, it's in the _best_ interest of anyone within a hundred-mile radius that Loki gets his sleep.

He handed Anthony the water, then climbed into the bed beside his boyfriend. Everything smelled warm and like whiskey and Anthony. The arc reactor thrummed a dull blue beneath Anthony's t-shirt. And for a minute, that's all that existed. Smell and blue light. Until, he was bundled up in strong arms and warmth and kisses skittered across his face and down his neck and Anthony was whispering how much he _adored_ him in his ear and imprinting the words on his _skin,_ and Loki couldn't _help_ but love this man. This fucked-up, broken, ruined human being who couldn't cope with loss, who couldn't understand regret, who couldn't pick himself up off the floor when life knocked him flat. And isn't it _perfect,_ how humans can love the most flawed of their own species, and think of them as angels, when really, they're just pretty demons? And isn't it _funny,_ how Anthony was both hellion and angel, and how Loki was both saint and sinner. And isn't it _beautiful,_ how they found each other, and found their soulmate in someone as fucked-up as they themselves?

So, Loki moved into the kisses, let his leg hitch over Anthony's waist, let himself be pulled flush against the drunken genius's chest. He could feel the arc reactor pushing against his skin through their shirts, he could feel Anthony's fingers slide across the bare skin of his waist, he could feel Anthony's warm breath on his shoulder. He let his shirt be pulled off, let Stark bury his face in Loki's neck, let himself melt into the embrace. It's funny how much he had changed, from hating physical contact after the destructive relationships he had been in, to letting someone kiss and hug and hold him like he was their lifeline. To letting this pugnacious, fists-up, barred, walled-up human being break through his walls, and let him tear down his, and let them show their hearts to each other.

Yes, they were _wrong_ for each other.

Yes, they were _perfect_ for each other.

* * *

A/N: **Well, it ended a little ambiguously.**

**And i'm not sure where this chapter resides on the spectrum from good to SHIT. So tell me, please. Don't hold back.**

**And I'm sorry.**

**I'm having a shit week, month, year, life? So, hopefully this chapter doesn't reflect that.**

**By the way, there is an end in sight for this. I have planned out the rest of this story (and we allllll know just how fucking _gloriously_ I write when there's an actual plot). BUT ( I like big buts and I cannot lie), what do you guys think about a sequel to this? Like, I'm not SURE. But, I've been _considering_ it. **

**To all my reviewers, readers, and ghostly viewers- I love you all. I've been having, as I mentioned, a really hard...indeterminate amount of time. And seeing all of you have read, reviewed, viewed my story is a really uplifting thing for me. Writing is my one happiness in life. And knowing you wonderful people enjoy it makes it like three billion times better.**

**-MEGA INTERNET HUGSSS-**

** ~xoxox, Rayn**


	23. Chapter 23- I Was Scared and I'm Sorry

A/N:** Chapter title is I Was Scared and I'm Sorry by The Wonder Years.**

**Do enjoy, loviess :).**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**

* * *

It was raining outside. Fucking New York City had been drenched in the downpour of the heavens for days. Like, nonstop, literal, days. Tony was pretty sure he needed to start building an ark or something, get a few dogs and cats and maybe some chickens- because Tony's a sucker for fried chicken. And coffee. And maybe build in a bar, and load it up with all the whiskey and vodka- because fuck, Tony's not going _anywhere_ without Loki, and Loki's in love with vodka- and scotch he can find.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair and running his eyes over Howard's lab. Well, it was _his_ lab now. Or that's what Obadiah told him. Obadiah had also told him that, if the company was to continue to be lucrative, Tony had to start cranking out some new and improved weapons. But, there was a _small_ problem.

Tony didn't _want_ to build more things that shed innocent blood.

Letting his eyes drift downward to the device in his hand, he wondered if it even mattered. Did any of it matter? What was the point? Life was so short, and who gave a shit about what happened in it but you and those you loved? Did even they care? Did _he_ care? He made a fist around the small thing bleeping at him harshly. Fingers squeezed, making the plastic and metal warp and groan in complaint. His heart was hammering. Why was he here? What was the point? What was he here for? Anything? _Anything_ but suffering?

Oh god, Tony was so tired of misery. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe it was over. _Finally._ Maybe he could leave here, and Loki could go on without Tony hanging like a weight around his neck, dragging the beautiful inky-haired teen down, _down, **down**_ with him. Maybe the company would be put in the right hands. Maybe Steve would be released of his never-ending worry, and Pepper could stop fretting over him, and that frown between Clint's eyebrows would smooth away. Maybe _this_ was the answer to all the problems in everyone's life. Because, if Tony wasn't around, the burden would be lifted.

But he would _miss_ them. He'd miss Loki. The memories of missing Loki, and wanting Loki, and dreaming about Loki in that cave in Afghanistan seemed to haunt him. It had always been those moments of wanting cool hands on his neck and soft lips on his own that kept him moving, kept him working, kept his pulse racing and his heart beating and his will to survive thriving. If he hadn't had Loki, there would have been nothing to come back for, no reason to go on. And god damn, he had hung _all_ his hopes and dreams on _one_ young man. One boy who could change his life for the better, or drag him to hell by his toenails. And Tony _knew,_ he knew he'd done all that love entails. He'd put a gun in Loki's hand, let Loki put his finger on the trigger and point the barrel to his head, and trusted him not to send a bullet through his brain. Because with a few words, with an action, with a look, with a few steps, Loki could kill him.

Now, Loki wasn't the _only_ thing that could kill him.

But, he was still the closest to his _heart._

* * *

Loki looked in the mirror and scowled. Green eyes blazed back at him, irritated and depressed. His hair _was...curly._ Like, those terrible kinky curls that bounced around his shoulders when it was humid and rainy outside. He looked like he was a five year old. Maybe if he punched the mirror, everything would _magically_ go back to the way it was _supposed_ to be, like how Loki had planned everything out in his head? Or, maybe he'd just have torn knuckles and tears leaking through his eyelashes.

Someone banged on the door. He grinned, his entire face lighting up. _Natasha._ His little Russian bundle of sunshine. He bounced out into the living room to open the door, smiling at a very wet, very pissy Russian bombshell. Behind him, Constantine straightened up. Nat rolled her eyes when he waggled his eyebrows at her. Honestly, Loki liked Natasha and Clint together. Somehow- against _all_ odds- they were a perfect couple.

"Oh my _Jesus,_ Loki. You're not even close to being ready." She scowled, putting her hands on her hips. "What've you been _doing_ all morning?" Sounding stern was really one of Natasha's most developed talents. He felt like he was talking to his mom.

"Oh _hush,_ you're used to it." He shrugged, throwing on a coat and pulling a beanie over his traitorous curls. "Let's go before I melt down and cut off all my hair." He stepped out the door and immediately recoiled.

Fun Fact #23: Loki _loves_ the cold. Loves the snow. Loves the ice and sleet. But there are moments when all he wants is to curl up under several thousand blankets with some hot chocolate and marshmallows and be warm and toasty and cozy. This, right now, is the latter.

"If you cut off your hair, Tony would have a nervous breakdown. I don't think I've ever seen you two together when he wasn't playing with your hair." She shook her head. "You two are gooey. It's _sickening."_ She wrinkled her nose cutely.

Loki smirked. "Shut up! He's adorable." A warm feeling settled softly in his stomach, sending heat through his entire body and reminding him of his furnace of a boyfriend. Oh, how he _wished_ he could be cuddling up under a blanket with his hot engineer. And _no,_ this fantasy is _not_ PG-rated.

"Loki!" A hand clapped down on his shoulder harshly, stopping him in his tracks, the rain pelting down on him like little bullets.

He spun, shaking off the hand on his shoulder and scowling. He froze. Thanos. Of course, just when everything was getting better. Thanos was a _curse,_ a three year old curse come back to bite him in the ass. Thanos was a mistake, a mistake he had made a lifetime ago, when he was young and stupid and lost. Before he found out who he was, before he realized why no one loved him, before he understood that it wasn't _all_ his fault. Thanos had provided a source of _'love'_ when it seemed like the whole world had turned on him. And Loki had fallen into a well-lain trap, snapping its jaws around him so tightly that it broke skin and bruised and tore down every ounce of self-confidence within him. When Thanos first hit him, first got in his face and called him nasty things and made him scream for all the pain to just _stop-_ everything within Loki had shattered like so many pieces of glass. He felt like Thanos had torn him apart and shattered him. He _still_ wasn't put back together. All the glue and love in the world could never piece him back together after that. That nightmare that still haunted him.

He snarled, "Get off me." There was a feral, wolfish tint to his voice. Natasha's fingers wrapped around his wrist, telling him _'I'm here, I'm right here. I won't let this bitch hurt you.'_

But it was little solace.

"Oh, baby, don't be wicked, now. I'm just _trying_ to be nice." The tone in Thanos' smoothing, charming voice felt like acid in Loki's ears. His skin crawled nauseatingly.

"_I'm_ the wicked one? Oh, that's rich. And I'm _not_ your baby." His back was arched, his eyes condescending. But inside, Loki was trembling.

Fun Fact #24: Loki _hates_ feeling weak. Even more, he hates _looking_ weak. He would rather scratch the blood out of his veins, than show weakness in the face of adversity. And when Thanos pranced onto the scene that is Loki's teenage life, there was a lot more blood shed than just the blood dripping off Thanos' knuckles every time he beat Loki to tears. Because Loki tore his _own_ skin apart, he tortured himself because he thought he _deserved_ every last beating that man gave him. He would have stayed with Thanos, if it hadn't been for that last straw that broke the camel's back. Loki _loved_ Thanos, once upon a time, despite all his flaws and faults and how he had broken Loki so much, that he didn't even understand that he _deserved_ better- someone who loved him, who wanted him, who protected him from pain.

"Yes, you _are."_ An iron hand gripped his jaw, making Natasha start forward. "You've always been _mine,_ you little whore. Remember how I fucked you that last night? Hmm? How you screamed and begged me to stop, _stop, **stop.**_ _Ohhh, you're hurting me_," Thanos mocked him, making his face turn red, making his eyes water. He struggled in the man's grip. "_Oh, Thanos, **stop,** please, Thanos._ Don't forget you're mine, Loki. I marked you." A hand shook him, rattling his bones.

"Stop! Get off me!" He shoved Thanos away. "I'm not yours! I _never_ was! You did _nothing_ but hurt me." He felt his fingers clenching, nails shoving into the skin of his palm. "Fuck you for that, because I was healthy, I was _happy,_ I was confident before you came into my life and broke me down. And I hate you, you worthless dick. I _don't_ love you. And I'm not yours! So, fuck off, and stay _away_ from me." They were nose-to-nose, Loki's angry eyes looking straight into Thane's supercilious glare.

"Get away from my brother, Thanos." The voice that boomed behind Loki was deep and comforting. The hand that wrapped around his waist was soothing, protective, familiar. Loki felt a cocoon of safety overwhelming his senses. And he knew why.

Because _this_ was the man that had protected him from everyone and everything that had conspired against him, all those years ago when he was innocent and happy and unmarred by his own knife and his mistaken belief in people. Before he had broken his skin, before he had been broken, there had been a person who _could_ hold him when he cried, who could brush away his tears without being slapped at or growled at, who let Loki use him as a human tissue. That person was _Thor._ And Thor, the big blond brute that Loki had yelled at and cursed and hated for almost a year, was _here._ Right now. When Loki _needed_ him. And Loki _did_ need Thor, just like every little boy needs his big brother.

"This is none of your concern, Thor." Thanos dismissed the blond with a flippant wave of his hand. Loki felt anger boil in his chest. No one- and when I say no one, I mean, _no one_- dismissed his brother but him. "Me and Loki were just having a nice chat. So how about you go off and do whatever it is some brutish _idiot_ like yourself does." It was only by the grace of whatever gods there were that Loki hadn't ripped out Thanos' tongue at this point- _really,_ Thanos, say prayers of thanks.

Loki watched in disbelief as Thor squared up to Thanos, a big, strong hand- which had held him when he cried, brushed his hair when he was too fucked up to do it himself, tucked him into bed after a beating so harsh, he couldn't do anything but cry- fisting in Thanos' collar. Thor's cobalt eyes were on fire. Everything moved in slow motion when Thor shoved Thanos back against a tree, the rain still coming down like god himself was crying.

"If _you_ hurt _my brother_, you-" Thor started, his voice trembling with rage. Loki was shaking and crying, the tears mingling with the rain that washed down his face.

"I _never_ hurt your brother, Thor! I never _touched_ that little prick. He's been lying to you." Thanos was shaking his head, the lies tumbling past his lips in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. "I never _ever_ touched him, unless he _wanted_ me to. And trust me, he _did,_ a lot. I never fucked him when he didn't want every bit of it!" He was yelling, and people were staring, and there was a hole burning straight through Loki's heart.

"That is a fucking _lie!_ I have the scars to prove it!" Loki's voice sounded strangled and small. He felt so _small._ So minuscule. So _insignificant._ God, he thought this feeling was _over,_ years ago. He thought when he moved out and started college and lived away from Odin, that the abuse would end. Surely, _surely,_ it would _end._ Surely he would be able to breathe, be able to be free, that the pain and abandonment and torture of being so very alone would _stop._ Surely, he wouldn't feel so small and tiny and like nothing, anymore.

But it hadn't. _Nothing_ had stopped. And he was right here, _still._ Three years later, and Thanos is back. Three years later, and he's lying again, and all those feelings that Loki wanted to _forget_ were flooding back in again like a tidal wave. It was like the whole world was turning on him, like everyone was beating him down again.

Loki was falling.

Thor's eyes were on him, his fists still holding Thanos pinned to the tree. And yeah, Loki's realizing now that Thor has _seen_ those scars. Thor had _seen_ the aftermath. Thor had seen him, laying on the floor of his and Thanos' apartment, bleeding and crying. Thor had _been there_. Thor had helped him up, carried him to the car. Thor had brought him into the ER. Thor had cried over him, Thor had held his hand when he was too scared to sleep alone. Thor had sat by his bed and watched over him when he cried and screamed and thrashed in fear of his nightmares.

Thor _knew._ Thor had _seen._ Thor, out of all the people in the world, had _just_ as much reason to hate Thanos as Loki did. Because, it was Thor who had watched his little brother spiral downward into pure psychological torture and fear and physical pain and discomfort. And there's _nothing_ more painful than watching the boy you believe to truly be the one on this Earth you love, fall apart.

It was like the world slowed down, stopped spinning for a few seconds when Thor's arm pulled back and his fist slammed into Thane's mouth. Blood exploded, spraying outward from where Thor's ring hit Thanos' gums. Loki stopped breathing for a good thirty seconds, watching Thanos sink to the ground, watching Thor throw his big fist into the man's face once, twice, three times. The anger in him like a coiled cobra, striking over and over again. A poisonous darkness that had been building up in them _both._

Then Loki's running, his feet moving of their own accord. His hands are reaching out to Thor, pulling him back- it's like Loki's watching a movie, because those _aren't_ his hands, _are they?_- pulling him backwards, them both stumbling away from the spluttering, wrathful man who's standing. And they're both out of breath, and he can feel the sobs and shaky breathing coming from Thor's chest. Loki's bundled in powerful arms, wet and disheveled and cold and shivering. And there's adrenaline pumping through his veins so hard, it's clogging his ears. Thanos is shouting, screaming at them. But Loki can't hear. He can only _see._

_'Faggot._'

_'Fuck.'_

_'Never.'_

_'Him.'_

_'Wanted.'_

_'Whore.'_

Loki's eyes close, then. Because he knows _exactly_ what Thanos is saying, and though the words aren't true- and let it never be said that lies aren't just as _hurtful_ as the cold, hard truth- they strike through to his core. He can feel himself shaking, trembling from the anger and adrenaline and bottled up torture that his life has been to him. Loki wants to explode. Loki thinks he _is_ going to explode, because the pressure is too much, the words he saw are screaming at him now, berating him and telling him how awful he is and how he _deserves_ this. Those words mean too many hurtful things to be ignored. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, and words will _always_ hurt me.' Because if anyone in the world is ever honest with themselves, they'll realize, words _hurt._ Words have the power to ruin and destroy someone. And Thanos knew _all_ the words that broke Loki down into a hazy, fucked up, scared mess. Words that put him in a corner and turned him into a skinny, shaking, bruised and bleeding _victim._

He opened his eyes. The world was spinning. Thanos was still yelling. "...a total fuck up! I never hurt him! He's _lying!"_ The words pierce Loki's eardrums like daggers.

Pushing out of Thor's arms is like walking into the middle of a tornado. All is calm until it hits you like a vortex of pain and hatred and years of confusion piled on misguided love and misguided wrath and misguided torment. "You can say _anything_ you want to, Thanos. It may change what other's think of you or I. But it will _never_ change what you did to me. It will never change how much I _hate_ you. Nor will it ever change the fact that you're a complete and utter son of a bitch. I _know_ who you are. And so do you. And you have to _live_ with that. I _don't._ Stay the fuck away from me."

Loki backed away, holding Thanos' angry eyes for ten seconds. Then he turned and walked away. It _wasn't_ over, but Loki was done. There was no more fight left in him. There was nothing more to say. There was nothing left. He felt deflated and boneless, like all the air had been wrung out of his lungs. He needed one thing, and one thing only.

_Anth__ony._

* * *

Tony looked up from the papers on his desk when Pepper opened the door. She smiled apologetically, the same smile she had given him an eternity ago when letting him go meet his father in his apartment. Tony winced at the memory. "Yeah?" He toyed with a weird statue that went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It bothered him, but Pepper claimed it looked professional and intelligent. _What-the-fuck-ever_, Pepper.

"Someone here to see you, Tony. Says he's an old friend?" She smiled again, and Tony wanted out of this office, out of this building, back in his home, his safety, his comfort. Can he just have Loki in his arms and some crappy hot chocolate and a corny romantic movie that Loki adored? _Please?_ Is that _really_ too much to ask?

"Okay, send him in." Anything to get rid of the papers on his desk that were glaring at him petulantly. It wasn't that Tony didn't like owning his own business, just _everything_ that came along with having his own business. Reading and signing wasn't really his thing.

Nevertheless, when Tony heard 'old friend', this wasn't really what he'd been thinking of.

"Hello, Tony. _Nice_ office. Bigger than mine, even. Fancy, spiffy." The pleasant tone had an undercurrent of plain and unrestrained hostility that made Tony tense. "This is my associate, Horace." One man gestured to the other, who wore an ugly blue suit and a crooked smile. Tony eyed the man, something stirring in the back of his mind.

"Odin. This is an unexpected surprise." He stood, asserting his dominance in the situation. Maybe _everything_ his dad had taught him hadn't gone in one ear and out the other. And right now, he wished his dad were standing in this office making small talk with some crazy fucking senator and his right-hand man rather than him. "Is there something I can do for you?" And really, the pleasantness in his voice was so strained, he sounded choked.

"Yes, there is." Odin's one ice blue eye focused on Tony intensely. It had nothing on the sharpness of the words that fell out of his mouth next, though. "Stay _away_ from my _son."_ The words hit him like a slap in the face. '

He shook his head, clearing away the words that moved through his mind like smoke- hazy and unclear. _"Excuse_ me?" The diva-bitch-hellion tone in his voice cut the air like a knife. You're on Tony's territory now, Odin.

"I will hurt him, if you don't stay away from him." The coldness in his voice made the temperature of the room drop to -30 degrees. A chill shot up Tony's spine and memories of Odin beating Loki in his dorm room ran through his mind, making an iron fist grip his stomach. "Nothing you say will change my mind. As long as you are dating Loki, he _is_ in danger. I assure you of that."

Horace shrugged. "And you know how the media is these days, never know when they might find out you're fucking a _boy."_ A nasty sneer had taken the place of his smile.

Tony gripped his desk, his face turning to stone and his eyes glaring at Odin. "You don't scare me, old man." But he _did,_ he scared him for Loki. Because, if anyone got hurt in this, it would be _Loki._ His darling Loki.

Odin smiled. "You think on what we said, boy. And you stay away from my son. Or else, you know the consequences." He smirked, walking out. "Give Obie my best, will you?" He threw over his shoulder, the door slamming as he and Horace exited.

Tony collapsed into his chair, his eyes looking out the window vacantly at a torrent of rain and rolling thunder and flashes of lightning. What the _fuck_ was he going to do now?

* * *

When Tony's phone rang, he instinctively knew who it was. And it isn't it a tad scary that Tony knows Loki so well, that he knows when he's calling? And that, by the tone of his voice, Tony can tell something is wrong, and that his doom-and-gloom boyfriend is on the edge, and he knows, _knows, **knows**_ that Loki's on the verge of that darkness that hovers in the back of both their minds. Because they're both just masochists that really _hate_ being in pain, and suicidal young men who want nothing more than to _live._ But living is so _hard_ these days.

"Lo-Lo, what's wrong?" The cool metal of his phone makes goosebumps crawl across his cheek and across the bridge of his nose and over his other cheekbone.

He can hear a heavy sigh across the line. "I got in a fight with Thanos." His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and Tony's ears strain to catch every sacred syllable. His blood boiled at the thought of the big, handsome man who had been torturing his boyfriend for _months,_ now. Oh, what he'd do to get his hands wrapped around that man's windpipe. _"But,_ Thor stepped in." There was a crack in Loki's voice that tore at Tony viciously. "He- He was good. He helped me..." Oh, how badly that must've hurt to say.

And Tony understands pretty much _nothing_ of Loki and Thor's relationship. He's never had a sibling, never even a friend he considered close enough to be a brother. And when it comes to Thor and Loki, it's not just a sibling thing, it's _more_ than that. Because, when Tony looks at Thor, when Thor is watching Loki, he sees this abounding, unfettered love that is far _beyond_ brotherly affection. There's this protectiveness for Loki that Thor has, that Tony has never encountered before. It's fascinating and enviable. Tony would have killed to have someone there, by his side every step of the way, someone to be on his side when he was growing up. Instead, he fought tooth and nail, became hard and bitter, built walls around his heart that only he and Loki knew how to break down. Yet, still they stood. And _forever_ they would, because Tony's too scared to let even Loki in anymore.

It'll just _hurt_ too much when the time comes.

"You want to come over? Spend the night? Or the week." He studied his fingers, looking at the stains left by the day's activities. Too much grease, too much sweat, too much soot. He was covered in it head-to-toe and probably smelled like he hadn't showered in a few _decades._

"Yes." Loki sounded relieved. _Oh._ Right, because of Christmas break. Hmph. Like Tony would let him be alone.

"I'll come pick you up in thirty minutes." He thought for a second. "And don't bring anything." A smile started to form on his lips, ideas popping into his head a hundred miles a minute.

"Anthony, I'm not spending a week naked with you at your mansion." He could hear the deadpan amusement in Loki's voice. He grinned wider.

"Why _not?"_ Yeah, he was whining like a five year old. But hey, that was supposed to be cute, right?

"Because. I just-" Loki sighed. "I'm not giving you any reasons. I'm bringing clothes. Whether I wear them or not." _Not._ That'd definitely be a not, Loki. Because Tony's not gonna let you hide an inch of perfect pallid skin that belonged as much to a snowman as it did his six foot plus frame.

"I love you." And yeah, no matter what was happening, and no matter the personal crisis that Tony was currently neck-deep in, he _did_ love Loki. So very much. So much that it was _consuming_ him, piece-by-painful-piece.

"I know." And really, that was the _best_ response from Loki. It meant trust, requited love, adoration, confidence. All the things Tony knew Loki had never really experienced before, all the things Tony had wanted him to enjoy in their relationship.

Tony smiled. _Fuck_ Odin and his threats.

He was Tony motherfuckin' Stark.

Even god couldn't touch him. Not when he was with Loki.

Together, they were invincible, untouchable.

* * *

Loki shoved two sweaters, four tank tops (because, when around Anthony, one doesn't get cold), a jacket, pajamas, socks, boxers (although god knows, it doesn't sound like he'll be allowed to wear them), and toiletries into a very worn backpack that had been withstanding the burden of his relentless and ever-changing social life for his entire life. Because, when Loki was staying the night at someone house, or knew he'd be spending the entire night out, he brought a change of clothes. There was something about arriving somewhere in the same outfit you'd worn the day before that Loki abhorred. Maybe it was the embarrassment of someone realizing _exactly_ why you hadn't changed in the past twelve hours.

Constantine was leaning against his doorway, smirking at his frenzied rush to get everything he needed together before Anthony- who would doubtless be _fashionably_ late- arrived. "You guys are really gonna work out, aren't you?" John's voice was amused, not surprised.

Loki looked up from folding a green shirt- which smelled just like a certain brown-eyed boy who'd worn it after spending the night at Loki's- and into Constantine's dark eyes, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl around his face. In a way, he looked appropriately eerie- even if Loki loved John's unique occult beliefs, Loki loved even more the darkness that could accompany such practices. "I certainly _hope_ so." He smiled. "I wouldn't have stayed with him for this long, if I didn't want it to last."

And it was true. Loki was known for being in in-and-out relationships. He'd had too many one night stands, too many emotionless relationships, hurt too many feelings. He wanted to _stay_ with Anthony. He _loved_ Anthony, and he knew, as much as it scared them both, that Stark loved him just as much.

"Do you love him?" The question was cynical, typical of John, but it still shocked to Loki to a standstill.

He looked at Constantine again, a small smile playing with his lips. "Yes, _yes,_ I do." He shrugged. "Who would've thought, right?" Loki's known around campus for being an Ice King, with an arctic soul and absolutely no interest in absolutely anyone...until Anthony came along and _ruined_ his reputation for being a hard, cool bastard.

Anthony rapped on the door, banging out a rhythm that made John roll his eyes. He opened the door, allowing Loki to get his shoes on and his hair tied back- because the weather was fucking with his hair in a _terrible_ way this year.

"Hiya, Johnny. What's up?" Loki didn't have to see the men to know Constantine was grimacing and Anthony had his signature jackal grin. "Where's Lo?" He could hear Stark already striding towards his room, without allowing John to get in a single word.

Then he was grabbed from behind, swept into a whirling hug. "Hello, love." He smiled, turning to kiss the grinning inventor on the lips. Kisses through smiles were the _best._

"Are you ready?" He could read the desire and love and affection just emanating off Anthony. But desperation was in their clutches, the way they held to each other, fingers grasping hems of t-shirts and reaching for hands to hold. Both of them were on the brink, and they could only keep from falling by holding to each other like some sort of sick reality show situation.

Loki nodded, grabbing his backpack and trotting after the man who somehow walked faster with shorter legs. John waved goodbye, throwing things haphazardly into a beat up suitcase in preparation of going home. It was the last day, today. And almost no one had gone to class- excluding Natasha and Loki, who was the only reason Natasha went to _any_ classes whatsoever. Everyone was busily preparing for the holidays, going home for Christmas to eat and drink and spread around cheer wherever they called home. Loki's home was in Anthony's arms, there was no special place he could return to see a mother and father, to roughhouse with siblings, and exchange gifts with little-to-no thought but a smile and a receipt.

In the car, there was the signature smell of all things Anthony. Cigarette smoke from a burning cigarette- "Want one?" Anthony proffered a pack of Marlboro and a lighter with red and gold zigzagging across cool metal, a silver 'S' emblazoned over it all. _Classic._

"Between you and Constantine, I'll _never_ quit." He breathed in the hot ghost of nicotine and tobacco.

Anthony threw him a shit-eating grin, whipping through City traffic. "Sorry, love." Honestly, Anthony, Loki'd really prefer your eyes were on the road, considering you're going like three thousand miles over the speed limit and weaving through cars and it's _really_ close to giving him a heart attack.

Stark reached over and threaded their fingers together, offering asylum in his touch and love through the feel of fingers on skin. Loki scooted closer to him, leaning his head against a warm shoulder. "I used to _love_ Christmas time." The decorations proclaiming annual cheer and goodwill were strung up everywhere, and lights decorated the edges of every building. The City went all out, every year trying to outdo themselves in past years, and succeeding more often than not.

Anthony's thumb ran circles against the tendons, bones, and veins on the back of Loki's hand. "Used to?" His voice was that sleepy, content, relaxed growl that Loki adored. It was the tone reserved for him and only him.

"Mmm. My mom and I would go shopping for presents together when I was really young. It was the one time a year that she let me have coffee. We probably walked the mall three or four times before going home when everything started closing, and our arms were ridiculously tired from carrying around bags, and my feet ached like I'd walked a hundred miles. But it was that _good_ kind of exhaustion, y'know? She'd let me blast whatever music I wanted on the drive home, and we would enter the house like we had the super amazing secret between us, because I knew what she'd gotten everyone, and she knew what I'd gotten everyone." He smiled at the memory. "It was one of the few moments when I felt just as special as Thor, like I really _belonged_ there, in that house and that family."

Anthony frowned down at him, the car thrumming beneath them and everything seemed to vibrate with seasonal joy and rare happiness. The world seemed to be at peace at last, except in the tumultuous orbit of Loki and Stark. But it would always be that way. There was always a dark cloud following Anthony and Loki, causing them unease even in the best of times. And really, when Loki's with his love, it _is_ the best of times, the time when he can let his hair down, when he can feel alive. Stark was a puzzle piece that fit perfectly.

"What happened today?" There it was. A question Loki had been waiting for. He knew Anthony didn't want to ask, that he'd rather do anything than address the elephant in the room-er- car.

The grip on his hand tightened reassuringly. "Me and Nat were walking to class when he just appeared out of nowhere. He's always been really good at that. Uh." Loki sighed, looking down at the hole in the knee of his jeans. "He and I got into a fight. He started saying he'd never hurt me. That just made me so mad. We were really getting into it when Thor came along. I guess he just saw the fight from wherever. Him and Thanos started talking, Thanos still saying he'd never hurt me. But, it was Thor who'd seen all the damage- well, most of the damage that had been done to me! I mean, he took me to the fucking hospital when Thanos broke my ribs. So, Thor pinned him to a tree. And when he was saying all that about me, and Thor was looking back at me with those fucking eyes that seemed to be remembering everything I was remembering...he punched him. And you know that football award-thingie ring that Thor has? It hit Thanos right in the gums and there was like blood everywhere." He grimaced. It had been disgusting. "I pulled him back-"

"Why?" Anthony's eyes were hard, staring out at the traffic and the rain and the gloomy cast of grey over everything like if he focused hard enough on that, this wouldn't hurt him too.

Loki shrugged. "I have no idea, honestly." He kept his eyes downcast, not willing to look at Anthony until he got it all out. "Afterwards, he was screaming and I tuned him out. Then I told him off and walked away. Went to class, and called you as soon as it was over."

Attention focused stubbornly on the window beside him, Loki watched the Santas ring their bells outside storefronts, and people ignore the requests for seasonal charity, and the world pass by at Stark's inordinate 80 miles per hour. The whole universe was a gloomy shade of winter. All grey, and white, and black, and red. Red, seeping over everything like blood and gore instead of Christmas cheer. The fingers in his hair massaged the edge of his skull, making him sigh and close his eyes contentedly. This was what Christmas was about for Loki. Love. Affection. Human contact, and not bad contact, but good touch. Loki's been touched harshly so many times in his life, it was easy to forget what it felt like to be hugged or kissed or petted. And gods know, Anthony treats Loki like a kitten or something.

"You're safe now. You don't have to see any of them for weeks." There was an uncertainty in Stark's voice that Loki thought was unnecessary at this point. If Loki didn't want to stay with you, he would've told you by _now,_ Anthony. "If you don't want to."

Loki glared at him as they pulled into the house-sized garages of the Stark mansion. The grandeur and shining, pristine clean room made his head spin. Anthony parked and moved to get out of the car, but Loki grabbed his wrist. "I want to be with _you,_ Anthony. I want to spend this...holiday, or whatever, with you. No one else." And he knew that, yeah, Stark was insecure because of Thanos and Loki's history with him. But he didn't know what Thanos had _done_ to Loki, how he had scarred and scared him, how _terrified_ Loki was that all of that would just happen _again_ now that he was shoving his way back into Loki's life.

A boyish grin lit up his boyfriend's face, and they were kissing, and it was just soft and warm and comfortable for a minute. Then Anthony was pulling him across the console, to sit across Stark's thighs. Arms wove around his waist, holding him close and connecting their bodies at every joint and seam above the knee. It was suffocating and warm, and the tug on his jacket was welcomed. Jacket off. Then Anthony was pulling on his shirt and Loki knows exactly _where_ this is going, and yeah, it's kind of really _hot._

Stark has one hand on Loki's ass and the other tracing his rib-cage when a voice rings through the garage. _"Tony!_ Are you-" Loki's retreating and blushing and glaring at Anthony because he's fucking laughing. And really, he wouldn't be laughing if he knew how much Loki wants to _kill_ him right now.

"Hi, Pepper." Anthony gets out of the car, allowing Loki time to yank his shirt and jacket back on and make his hair slightly less tousled- and thank _god_ for beanies. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending Christmas at your mom's." Loki got out of the car, wandering off while Stark talked business with Pepper- whom he'd heard of, but never officially met. He saw her at the funeral, taking in her mascara-stained cheeks and how she'd clung to Anthony as if he were _her_ boyfriend. Suffice to say, Loki's a _very_ jealous young man, and Anthony was now _very_ aware of that fact.

* * *

Loki looked up at the high ceilings in awe. Anthony was making a drink and babbling about something Pepper had said- really, as soon as Stark had mentioned _Pepper,_ Loki stopped paying attention. "You want a tour?"

"Hmm?" Loki looked at a picture of three people. Howard was one, but Loki didn't recognize the other two. "Who are these people with your father?" He picked up the frame, gazing down at the smiling faces and the happiness in their expressions.

Anthony came up behind him and laughed. "Oh, that's me and my mom." He took the picture, tracing his mother's face. "It's the last picture of her before she died." He shrugged. "She looked _happy,_ right?" Loki nodded, looking down at the grinning woman who had her arms wrapped tightly around her son. "She wasn't. In fact, she was crying right before this picture was taken. She had just found out that Howie had an affair with some secretary." The bitterness and the anger of a protective son resounded through his voice. Shaking his head like he was shaking off the memories, he threw Loki a smile. "C'mon, I'll give you the grand tour. There's a lot of hidden secrets to this old beauty. My dad was a suspicious, mistrustful man. There's like ten different hidden hallways, doors, and rooms. I used to get lost in them when I was little. Dad would hear me crying and come get me, scolding me and banishing me from leaving the main house ever again." He smiled that jackal grin that practically oozed mischief. "I _never_ listened."

Loki watched and listened curiously as Anthony laid his home bare for Loki's interested eyes, hearing every word like it was an oath or a promise. Because Anthony was being open, telling Loki stories of his childhood and revealing things about himself that no one had known. There was talk of his mother, his father, the prestigious men and woman who had played ball with him in that room, or the business partner of his dad's that he had spilled steaming coffee on, or the time he had sneaked a pony up to his room.

Loki was caught in a whirl of everything _Anthony,_ and yet absolutely nothing personal. Stark was open, but his walls were still _up._

* * *

"This was my mom's favorite room." In the middle of the room, there was a white grand piano. It was the focal point, drawing all eyes with it's artistic slant and pure, enigmatic color. White with innocence, white with mystery. "She taught me to play before she died, but I stopped playing after. It was too much, y'know."

Loki smiled, his eyes distant from Tony and this realm. "It's a beautiful piano. Has anyone played it, since?" Tony noticed Loki's reluctance to mention Maria's death, even when Tony'd brought it up. The boy realized it was too close for Tony, held too tightly.

Stark shook his head. "My dad wasn't very musical, y'know." He watched Loki run his fingers across the ivory keys. "I didn't even know you played." He sat on the edge, pulling Loki with him.

Loki smiled, shrugging. "I haven't in _years._ "

"Why not?" Stark brushed a lock of curling black hair over Loki's shoulder, revealing a sharp jawline and elegant, snow-white neck. He traced Loki's collarbone delicately.

"After..." He sighed, catching Tony's hand in his and tangling their fingers together tightly. "After Thanos...broke my ribs, Thor threw a shit fit. That was when he was really there for me, _no matter what_. Well, I told him I wasn't going to break up with Thanos, and that it was none of his business, no matter who he was. He lost it, went after Thanos..." He shook his head. "When I went home that night, Thanos wasn't there. I didn't realize that Thor was tracking him down, hunting him like he was some sort of deer or something. So, I sat down to play. Just to waste time until Thanos got home."

Tony squeezed the pale fingers between his. Loki smiled at him shakily, tears making his dark green eyes shine.

"He came home, and sneaked up behind me. I was playing some song I had written for Thor when we were younger. I was still upset about our fight. I'd told Thanos about the song in the beginning of our relationship. Hearing it kind of sent him over the edge, after fighting with Thor before he got home." Loki looked down at the keys before him, touching them softly, reverently. "He took this iron sculpture he had nearby, and started bashing my piano with it. It was a..._beautiful_ piano. 70 years old, given to me by my grandma not long before she passed away. That piano was my _baby._ I kept it in _shining_ condition.

"He destroyed it. Even with me freaking out and trying to pull him away, he ruined it. When a friend of mine came to look at it, he told me he would have to completely reconstruct the keyboard to get in playing condition again. It was all smashed to hell, the keys, the hammers, the finish on the rest of the piano, everything. And..." Loki pulled his hand out of Tony's. Pale fingers squeezed into a fist. "That night, after he demolished my most prized possession...he broke my hand, put my fingers on the keys and slammed the cover down on them." His face was ghostly white with the memory of the pain ripping across his expression.

Tony cringed at the thought, his stomach tying up in knots and a cruel fist closing around his heart. "Loki..." He brushed his fingers through the boy's curly, damp hair.

"I never played again. I jut couldn't stomach it. My right hand had three fingers broken clean through." He wiggled his index, middle, and fourth fingers. "And, my pinkie finger on my left. Thor _still_ doesn't know the truth. I was crying too hard at the hospital." He smiled bitterly. "After that, he didn't ask questions. I guess I effectively _cured_ him of that, huh?" A tear slid down to hide in the crook of his lips, so Tony kissed it away.

Tony said more in that kiss than he ever could have in words. Things like, _'I'm here'_, _'You're safe'_, _'I wont let you go'_, _'I love you more than words can ever describe'_. But it wasn't enough. It was _never_ enough. Tony wanted to give Loki the world, heal all his wounds, take him somewhere far, far away. He wanted to protect Loki. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. Because, there are things within Loki that he must conquer. There are battles he must fight alone, just as Tony must battle his addictions all by himself. Some things we must do ourselves, because no one else is strong enough to do it for us.

But _were_ they winning their battles?

Was Loki to be a victor?

_When_ would Tony lose the battle, once and for all?

* * *

A/N: **It's shit. I'm sorry. It's late, and I'm so tired, and this chapter just wouldn't be written. And OH MY FUCK. My updates have been so sporadic and random and ugh, forgive me?**

**Review? Pretty please with cherries on top? If you review, I will come make you a banana split, or a Sunday or whatever they're called with cherries on top. Legit. **

**I LOOOOOOVE YOU PEOPLE. And please forgive my shitty writing. **

**Plots. I must burn them with fire.**

**Urgh.**

**Have a great week, guyssss.**

**~xoxox, Rayn**


	24. Chapter 24- Skin and Bones

_A/N:_

**WARNING: This chapter contains violence, rape, talk of depression, possibly triggering themes. So. If you have gone through any sort of trauma that pertains to anyyyy of that. PLEASE DON'T GO ANY FURTHER. Okay? I don't want this to fuck with anyone's happiness or recovery or any of that. **_**  
**_

**And of course, my usual copious amounts of 'bad words'. Only, maybe more this time.**

**Skin and Bones is the chapter title. It's a song by Marianas Trench. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the fucked-up plot. The beautiful characters belong to Marvel. And Stan Lee, my baby. **

* * *

_Depression was falling into a pit. A never-ending pit. There is no panic, even though your limbs are paralyzed and sadness consumes you. All you can do is watch the light above you slowly disappear. All you can do is see that hope slowly dissipate. All you feel is hopelessness. All you feel is empty._

* * *

_Loki watched the sun sleepily seep through his window. But he wasn't getting up. The bruises scattered across his arms and legs and torso and face made it painful to walk or do anything but hug his pillow and sniff away the tears that slowly slipped down his black and blue cheeks and onto the pillow. All he wanted was sweet, peaceful sleep._

_But hiding behind his eyelids, were only nightmares._

* * *

**_24 Hours Earlier_**

* * *

Tony stretched. A warm body stirred beside him, wrapping one leg around his waist and sprawling across him like a lazy cat. He grinned. There was something about waking up to the smell and cool feel of _Loki_ that rivaled all other forms of waking up. The notion that he wouldn't feel this way for much longer made his heart hurt. Or maybe something _else_ was fueling the growing pain in his chest. Whichever, it spurred Tony into action, slowly slipping out from underneath long, thin limbs to pull on his clothes and grab his keys.

The mansion was empty of all food, and he was out of coffee. And yeah, he kind of needed some fresh air or he might go into full-on panic mode. After last night's events- which entailed Loki getting drunk and playing strip chess with Tony- he kind of doubted the panther in the guise of a boy in his bed would be waking up anytime soon.

From the mansion, it was a ten and a half block walk to the nearest cafe. The air was cutting cold, the wind whipping, and everywhere, everything was _dead._ The evergreens even looked dead in the grey winter cast that colored everything in sight. But Tony _loved_ it. He loved winter and the invigorating chill that got deep in his bones, he loved the dead look around him that screamed of the world's seasonal depression, he loved the way the wind cut through his skin like a hot knife through butter. Maybe it made him feel more _alive,_ maybe he felt like the Universe sympathized with the dark depression that had followed him around like a dark cloud all his life, or maybe he just favored the punishing cool over the suffocating heat of summer.

Above him, the skies were a smoky grey, clouds congregating and preparing to unleash their tears on earth's unsympathetic face. They made the sun's rays look weak, as if it tired them to fight against the thick, downy wet of the clouds. With sunglasses, it was almost too dark to be early morning. But Tony didn't take them off, he didn't want anyone to see his eyes. If they did, they might see through him, they might see the secret he was straining to hold inside, under lock-and-key in his heart. No one could know. _No one_. Not even Loki. Not even Pepper. Not Obie or Clint or Steve or even Bruce.

That was the _great_ thing about being alone. There was no one to tell your secrets to, no way to jeopardize everything. Just a few uttered words, and Tony could _ruin_ everything. One slip, and it was all over. If he told a soul, this would go wrong. And he couldn't have that. For once, he _wasn't_ going to be selfish. He was going to do this right, even if it was the _last_ thing he would do.

* * *

Loki woke up to someone slipping out of bed beside him. Anthony. He was in Anthony's bed, under Anthony's blankets, and now, missing Anthony's comforting warmth. He blinked his eyes open and watched Anthony slip out of the room, keys in hand. Probably off to grab some coffee. Loki smiled and stretched, whining when something in his head jolted. So _that's_ what it was like to have a shitty hangover. It wasn't like he'd _ever_ been hungover before. Nevertheless, he seemed to _forget_ the awful aftereffects in the course of getting drunk. But he _loved_ it. He loved being drunk, being freed from the reticent nature he had been raised to have, he wasn't pushed in a corner any longer. When Loki was drunk, he felt capable of being everything he wanted to be inside. Fear was eliminated, and he was the most honest, true version of himself.

Of course, being that he is Loki Laufeyson, happiness is _always_ short-lived, shot down mid-flight- a bullet straight through heart of his joy. Maybe he was cursed, or maybe the Universe just _hated_ him. But, there was always Stark, always right there by his side to make even the darkest of times seem a little brighter. Did it mean that perhaps- just _perhaps-_ he was getting _better?_ Did this new-found ability to find happiness in sadness mean he was healing? Was Stark the _cure_ to his cursed affliction of depression and self-harm and the ever-present anorexia? Or was all of this just a band-aid to hide the _ugliness_ within him?

Loki closed his eyes, groaning and digging the heels of his palms back into his eye-sockets. Tension was starting between his shoulder blades, and it wasn't even noon. _Fabulous._ The thought of Tylenol and water seemed like _heaven._ Dragging himself out of bed, and wrapping a blanket around his bare shoulders, he trudged towards the kitchen.

It had taken him days to get this place figured out. It was huge. _Huge._ Like, Loki had _thought_ his house was big. It was a dollhouse compared to this. But he loved it, because it fit _Anthony._ It was big and rambling and cozily warm and everything was steel or hardwood or something strong and resilient and there were hidden rooms and niches and secrets scattered throughout the whole place. In the kitchen, there was a bottle of water and Tylenol set on the counter. He smiled, unscrewing the lid and downing four Tylenol immediately. To the right of the counter, there was a wall of window. The sprawling acreage surrounding the house made a beautiful, bleak view. Full of winter gloom and the appearance of a frozen world.

Loki wrapped his blanket tighter around him, padding towards the windows and looking out at the carcass of summer's life and fall's slow descent into cold and grey and rain and snow. The remainder of the snow from two days ago still lay on the ground, dirty and stained a dark brown. It was starting to melt under the sun's dim, but relentless, shine. Shadows from the clouds' war against the sun mottled the ground and played games with the trees. An owl perched sleepily on a tree, covered by shade and tucking its head down into its breast to keep warm as it dreamed.

It was a _beautiful_ morning.

Loki ran a hand along the hollow contour of his stomach. Anthony would doubtless bring him something fattening to eat for breakfast, and a sugary coffee- which he _knows_ Loki has a _serious_ weakness for, damn him- and Loki would have to eat to avoid hurting his feelings or getting that puppy dog look that _melted_ his heart. It would ruin that inward curve of his stomach. He could already _feel_ himself gaining weight. And as much as he fought it, the insidious thoughts that he needed to starve, that he shouldn't eat, that he didn't _really_ need food, that the hunger pangs were only in his head, were starting to crowd his brain. Anorexia was _never_ truly gone. Loki had never really gotten past it, or forgotten about it, or recovered from it. Because, it was always there, whispering in his ear, telling him terrible things about his body every time he looked in the mirror or caught Anthony looking at him with love and lust and desire and affection and care and all those wonderful things that seemed to fill the brown in Anthony's irises. And as much as he knew Anthony loved his body, it made him want to be better, to be thinner, to be more beautiful. To be handsomer, to be worthy. Because we all know Loki's _never_ felt _worthy_ of any good thing in his life since the day he walked out of the womb.

He leaned against the window, sighing and letting the cool pane of glass touch his hot cheek. Goosebumps traversed his skin. He felt the scars on his arm, running his fingers across the chill that resided there temporarily. Soon the heat would kick on and the house would become toasty and warm again.

The door banged open, and Anthony shuffled in, kicking it closed behind him. His face lit up when he saw Loki, a smile spreading across his lips as fast as lightning. _"Good_ morning, sunshine." He greeted.

And Loki couldn't help but smile back, because there was something _wonderful_ about Anthony calling him sunshine even though he was the human equivalent of a thundercloud. And _only_ Anthony would smile so fast upon seeing him- hair a royal mess, naked except for a blanket, bare-footed, and probably pale as a ghost- or get that look in his eyes that translated to pure adoration for Loki that no one else had. And really, there's _nothing_ like Stark in the morning, with his hair rumpled and his clothes askew, and just looking generally disheveled in Anthony's signature way.

And the coffee is warm and the food smells divine, and suddenly, this house has become a little patch of heaven on earth. "Good morning, darling." Loki purrs, pressing a quick kiss to Anthony's cheek and getting rewarded with a suffocating hug and a loud, smacking kiss on the lips that has him giggling.

"Clint just texted me. Everyone is meeting up around noon for a inside pool party at Natasha's house, if you want to go. I'm perfectly fine with staying in, but I can _tell_ you're getting cabin fever." He winked at Loki adorably. Loki rolled his eyes.

"That sounds lovely." He grinned. "You'd be _happy_ staying here? Not seeing any of your friends. Just me and you?" He sipped his coffee, feeling the warm liquid fall down his throat and land soothingly in his stomach.

Really, he was curious. He knew Anthony was a vortex of nervous energy and restless curiosity, but he had seemed so mellow the past few days- as if Loki was just _enough._ And really, when was Loki _ever_ enough for _anyone?_ When was _anyone_ satisfied with _just_ him? Had it _ever_ happened?

Ahem. _Thor._

Fun Fact #25: Loki tends to forget Thor's _existence_ when he's miserable or worried or depressed. Why? Because Thor is _part_ of Loki. They are two of the _same_ being. Brothers, _yes._ Something even closer? Without a doubt. Because, when Loki hates himself, he hates Thor. When Loki loves Thor, he loves himself. They are one-in-the-same.

"Of _course,_ I would." Anthony leaned close across the counter, their noses a few inches away. Loki can't help but smile because, god _damn,_ his boyfriend is _cute._ "Have you looked in a mirror? Why would I want to share you with anyone else, when I can have you _all_ to myself?" He pressed a tender kiss to Loki's lips. "And anyways, all the more time to seduce you, my dear." He winked.

Way to kill a perfectly romantic moment, Anthony.

* * *

Tony grinned at Loki because, um, have you _seen_ his boyfriend? _No,_ really, _have_ you? He's an angel. Tony's _convinced_ of it. And in those clothes, with Tony in _that_ mood, they come very close to not even going to the party. But Loki's bouncy and happy and completely unaware that Tony wants to rip his clothes off with his teeth and take him right where he stands, so they go.

Clint flung the door open wide- classical Clint move- and grinned. "Finally! The party don't start until you two walk in." He winked at Loki, who rolled his eyes, and took the boy's black trench coat. "Natasha's in the kitchen, downing vodka like a real woman." He shrugged. "This was _her_ idea."

Loki smiled. "So, you don't want me for my _fantastic_ partying abilities, but rather my _uncanny_ ability to calm your girlfriend?" Clint smirked. "I'm _hurt,_ Clint. Really, I'm very hurt by this." The deadpan seriousness in his eyes had Tony cackling and Clint backpedaling.

"I'm sorr-" Clint started, making a certain sense of mischievous mirth start to glow in Loki's eyes.

"Loki Laufeyson. Your skinny, _pretentious_ ass better get in this kitchen, _right now!"_ Natasha's voice sounded unhinged.

Clint and Tony shared a look of _alarm._

Loki grinned. "Oh, don't worry, boys. I got this." He winked at Tony, practically purring into the short kiss before he disappeared from sight in the small mob that had descended on Natasha's home.

"He's in a good mood." Bruce walked up beside Clint, Steve in tow.

Clint rolled his eyes. _"Yeah,_ you know, they say more _sex_ makes you-" Tony elbowed him roughly when he took in the red tinge of Steve's cheeks. "Oh _please,_ Steve can take a little gay sex talk if I can." Clint shrugged.

Steve fidgeted uncomfortably under Tony's eyes. "Oh, I _don't_ think he can, Hawk." Tony leaned on Clint's shoulder- Hawkeye being the one person on campus who was _actually_ shorter than Tony- and studied Steve.

"Only because _he's_ not the one doing you." Clint muttered huffily.

Tony hadn't thought Steve couldn't turn a _brighter_ shade of red.

He was _wrong._

"Hey, boys." Loki breezed past Steve without a second glance and straight into Tony's arms. Mmhmm, be jealous, bitches. He's got the hottest guy in the room. Natasha followed, smiling at Clint discreetly. The red in her cheeks told Tony not only had she been drinking vodka, she'd been _guzzling_ vodka. "Why did you all suddenly get so quiet?" He arched one eyebrow, looking very much the menacing misanthrope they all knew he could be.

Oh, this was going to be _fun._

Bruce looked down. Steve blushed furiously. Clint grinned wickedly. And Tony was left smiling at his irascible little boyfriend with all the _love_ in the world.

"Yeah, _Clint,_ why're you guys so quiet all of a sudden? Cat caught your tongue?" The tone in her voice was that of a bulldog. Tony was appropriately awed.

"We were talking about how the only reason Steve didn't like me talking about how Loki and Tony were having sex was because _he_ wasn't the one doing him." He glanced at Loki and Tony. "Er- the one doing Tony."

Oh, if looks could kill- Hawk should've been a _dead_ man.

"That's _not_ true!" Steve's voice was shaking furiously. But, his eyes weren't directed at Clint, they were on Loki.

Loki, who was currently hanging on Tony's shoulder seductively- and let's not forget that Tony's...in a _mood-_ and glaring predatory and pugnacious at Steve. This is the side of Loki that Tony is glad he's never come to par with. This is the side of Loki that Tony could never beat, could never win against. Because this is Loki at his _zenith,_ at that point where he becomes a storm, a supernova, a wily serpent. This is the predator side of Loki, who never backs down, who never loses, who _reigns_ over peasants like Tony and Steve.

"Oh? So you _don't_ want your dirty little claws in my man? Really?" Loki's voice is smooth and dark like chocolate. Tony's dying. Suffering. Suffocating. "Let's be honest, here, Steve. You've wanted Tony for...ever. But guess what. He's mine. Not your's. He never will be yours, and really, he never wanted to be." Loki shrugged daintily. "And I can assure you, I personally will guarantee, that _hell_ will freeze over before you- or any _other_ motherfucker- get's what's _mine."_

Let's not even say Tony's turned-on. That would be a lie. He long ago went above and _beyond_ being turned-on.

Let's not say, either, that Steve is angry. Steve is more like a cauldron of pissed. Cool, calm, mellow Steve. _Pissed._

Clint is giggling and Natasha is smirking and Bruce looks very much like he wants to run away from the tension and confrontation. And as much as Tony has adored Steve- for _years-_ he _loves_ Loki for laying claim to him. And for a little while, all the pain and terror and trauma of their lives melts away.

* * *

"I'll be right back." Loki murmurs in Anthony's ear, feeling the responding nod brush curls against his jaw.

Then he's searching for the bathroom, slipping into a room at the end of a hall. He feels a wide hand shove him inside, a door closes behind him. He's whirling, his heart pounding, and getting shoved back against the wall roughly, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Cobalt eyes look into his, dark and full of that type of lust he's _learned_ to fear. "You scream, you try to escape, and it'll only be worse for you." Fingers are yanking on his belt, pulling his jeans undone. But Loki _can't_ stay still. This _can't_ be happening _again._ Loki _can't_ take this. Loki _can't_ go through this again.

So he screams. So he struggles. So he kicks and lashes out and bites the hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut against the tears. He's thrown on the bed- god damn, he was just looking for a _bathroom-_ a hand grabbing his foot when he kicks out. His foot is twisted painfully, an agonizing wrench shooting up his leg and making him yelp. That hand is over his mouth again. "Let's put it _this_ way, bitch. You make another noise, and it won't just be _you_ who suffers. I _know_ who you love." There's a terrible pain twisting in his chest, reminding Loki of that same feeling he suffered through three years ago. Yeah. He _can_ take this. He can't take anyone else getting hurt.

"Thanos, _please,_ don't do this." His voice is a cracked whisper, hoarse and afraid. He hates it, he hates how small and helpless he sounds. He hates being this vulnerable creature. He hates how easily he breaks and bleeds, he hates that he's never felt _true love._ That he's never been _saved_ from the abuse in his life.

An evil grin crawls across the man's face and warps his expression into that of a _demon._ And then his pants are ripped off and god, he's wiggling and beating and trying his damnedest to get _away, **away,**_ **away,** to just run away from this and everything beating him down and abusing him and hurting him and god, the memories are running through his mind and all he wants is to go home and never let Anthony let him go. But he's on his stomach, pulling at the edge of the bed and kicking at Thanos and god he _wants_ to scream. But he _can't. No._ He has to _protect_ everyone he loves. Because, if anyone does, _he_ knows exactly what Thanos is capable of.

If he can just get out of this room...

His pants are getting yanked off and Thanos has a hold of his hair and tears are springing to his eyes. '_No, no, no, no, nonononononono!_'. This _isn't_ happening. It can't be. Dear god, he's been through this _once._ His arms are twisted behind him so tightly he's croaking out curses in a rough, tight voice that's full of all the pain and emotion in the world. A fist cracks into his side, and he gulps down a struggling cry. A rough hand flips him over, on his back again.

"Oh baby, you know how I love to see those pretty green eyes, don't you?" Thanos' voice is a terrifying growl in a dark room. And god, the music is so loud out in the main room that if Loki screamed at the top of his lungs, no one would hear him.

Helplessness balloons in his chest. "Let me _go!"_ He lashes out, and gets rewarded with a hard fist against his cheekbone. His legs are held down by strong thighs straddling him, his wrists tied down in one big hand. His boxers yanked down to his knees, and god, _no. "Stop,_ please. Please." His sounds pitiful, scared, small. He sounds so vulnerable and afraid and it makes his stomach churn.

He can hear Thanos' belt buckle clink when he undoes it. He can feel his own body recoiling when Thanos aligns their bodies. He can feel everything in him screaming '_RUN!_' and he can feel just how _weak_ his is in the face of Thanos' strength.

Pain shoots through him like a bullet. He bites his lip against the scream that's raging up through his throat and dying to break out of his mouth. Tears squeeze past his screwed tight eyelids. The bed is creaking and Thanos is panting and the world is spinning even though Loki won't open his eyes for the world. And god it hurts, so much. It feels like he's being ripped apart and split in two and torn to pieces and his lungs are ragged from the silent screams he's swallowing and his body is tense and he's in so much _pain._

"Let me go. _Stop. Please."_ He's begging, groveling. _Anything._ But he just sounds ragged and broken and hopeless.

"Open your eyes." The demand is wicked and cruel because Thanos knows Loki doesn't want to remember this sight, he doesn't want any more senses involved in this violation of _everything_ he's tried to build up in the past three years.

A hand slams into him, and he's crying again and god everything hurts. There are going to be bruises all over his body, and how can he be around Anthony like _this?_ And why would Anthony even _want_ him after all this? He hasn't even told him about three years ago when this happened the _first_ time. But he opens his eyes and spits in Thanos' face.

"Fuck you." He snarls, feeling the motion ripping him apart inside, cease. A hand smacks across his face, making his teeth bite into his lip. Blood pours into his mouth, and starts to leak down his chin and clog his throat.

His throat is encased by strong fingers like a vice, crushing his windpipe. "Now, let's lay down some ground rules. You _will_ take this, and you will shut up, and you will stop struggling. Just like last time. I'm sure you _remember,_ I tried to make this enjoyable for you, but you _wouldn't_ listen to reason. Now, I will take what I want from you. Easy, or _not._ You might as well just enjoy it, Loki." He sneered. "And if you fucking spit at me again, I'll break your jaw."

Loki's vision is starting to swim when the pressure on his windpipe is gone and he's dragging in blessed oxygen and the cock between his legs slams into him again and he's gone, his mind swimming in pain and a dizzying desire for everything in the world to just _freeze._

Ten minutes later, Loki's pulling up his jeans and dizzily trying to find a bathroom before he collapses. He stumbles into the smaller room, pulling the door shut and locking it and pushing the strangely placed chair against it and dropping to his butt like a toddler on the floor. He can't cry anymore. He can't do _anything_ but wallow in the pain and the '_Why, why, why, why, why_' plaguing his shut-down brain.

What did he do to deserve this?

* * *

Tony looks around the room, standing on his tip-toes to see over all the taller people and across the room to the walls. Loki's _not_ here. Loki's _gone._ Loki's _been_ gone for a good twenty minutes and Tony's fucking flipping his god damned _shit_ because he saw Thanos. Fucking _Thanos._ And judging by the creepily satisfied look on his face and the strange bruise forming on his jaw, Tony figures Loki's _not_ okay.

"Loki?" He darts from room to room, shoving open doors and mumbling apologies to the couples he bursts in on. But Loki's _nowhere_ to be found.

To say Tony's panicking is a _bit_ of an understatement.

Someone bumps into his shoulder, and the room is getting overstuffed and overheated and when the _hell_ did so many people get here? He can't find Loki. Loki, the tall, scrawny boy who looks like he just walked out of a Tim Burton movie with his beautiful pale skin and dark hair.

"Tony?" Clint grabs his arm and hauls him to a stop. Not being in motion and actually focusing on something that isn't Loki throws him off for a second. _Clint._ Why is Clint here? "Looking for Loki?" There's an understanding look in his eyes and the beginnings of relief start to wash over him.

He nods. If Clint says _anything_ but that Loki's okay, he might just punch him for halting his search.

"He's alright. Nat took him home. Well, to his dorm." Tony's about halfway out the door before Clint has him again, halting him again, stopping him from getting to his boy. "You can't go. He-He said he needs..." Clint bit his lip. "Look, you..." He sighs. "Oh _fuck_ it. He got into some sort of trouble with Major Jackass and he looks pretty roughed up. He doesn't want you to see him like this and if you go right now, he's either going to burn me alive or Natasha's going to behead me." He shrugs. "Just, wait till morning?"

Tony's staring at him because really, _really, **really?**_ Loki's not okay and Clint's actually asking him to not go rescue his princess and lock him up in a tower where no one can hurt him and they'll never leave and Tony's about to have a mental breakdown. "If I don't go see him now, I'm going to kill you in the most painful, creative way you can imagine." He snarls, something like a mean street dog rising in his chest because this is not something to fuck around with. Tony doesn't play around when it comes to Loki. He _can't_ let him be alone. He knows Loki too well for that.

Clint sighed. "Tony, he needs this. You didn't see him. He's terrified, and you barging in there like Mr. I'm-Gonna-Save-the-Day isn't gonna do either of you any favors. Just...give him the _night_ alone." But, Clint doesn't understand what Tony does- if Loki's alone, he'll hurt himself. Tony can't get the image of the scars on Loki's arm out of his head.

But Clint's _right,_ god damn him.

So Tony does the _only_ thing he can do when his life is fucked up and he's breaking inside and there's nothing he can do to glue it all back together:

He gets drunk.

* * *

Loki watched the sun sleepily seep through his window. But he wasn't getting up. The bruises scattered across his arms and legs and torso and face made it painful to walk or do anything but hug his pillow and sniff away the tears that slowly slipped down his black and blue cheeks and onto the pillow. All he wanted was sweet, peaceful sleep.

But hiding behind his eyelids, were only nightmares.

* * *

A/N: **Um. I'm sorry? I don't think that fully discloses how much I apologize for this emotional roller-coaster. **

**I love all of you guys so much. Without you all, I'd probably be pretty fucking miserable right now. So, HUGS FOR ALLLL. Thank all of you so much for reading this fic. It's like, my favorite thing of all time (not the fic, because it totally _sucks,_ but hearing feedback and from you all).**

**Speakinggggg of feedback. I haven't been getting as many reviews recently. Did I do something wrong? Did I fuck up something? I'M LOST, GUYS. Is it...-horrified shudder-..._boring?_**

** Anywhoooo. Gracias. Te amo. Have a splendid rest of the weekend, and a wonderful upcoming week ;). **

**P.S. If any of you hate me now, please realize that I fully intend to kill Thanos. Eventually. Because I hate him too. And if any of you have gone through _any_ sort of trauma, I love you xxxooooo. I'm here for you. I will listen if you need to talk about anything you're going through, have gone through, anything. My inbox is a judgment-free zone, and you can tell me absolutely anything.**

**Just throwing that out there in case _anyone_ needs someone to talk toooo. I know it's helped me through some shit.**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**


	25. Chapter 25- In Your Eyes

A/N: **I do not own these characters. Or the people that portray them on film, unfortunately. (Can I just please have my very own RDJ? Please?) **

**WARNING: Mentions of sexual activities (not too graphic because I wimp out on these things, sorry. It'll get better. Eventually). Cursing (duh). Some emotional abuse, and some mention of self-harm and anorexia. Dealings with the aftermath of a rape. Pretty much everything there usually is. *sigh* I promise I'll get around to a happy chapter one of these days.**

**The chapter title is In Your Eyes by Darren Hayes. **

**And I will be answering all your reviews next time I get on here. I promise. I've just been grappling with writer's block and that's been making pissy and bitchy, and no one likes a pissy writer xD.**

**I LOOOOOVE YOU ALL.**

**Enjoy ;)**

* * *

Tony woke up slowly, feeling the tepid slink of alcohol and drugs in his veins, oozing like sludge. It made his brain fuzzy, and all the memories from the night before were lost in snatches and hazy bits and a few desperate, frantic moments just out of reach. He stretched into full consciousness, feeling a pull in his chest that reminded him of the arc reactor buzzing delicately under the fabric of his t-shirt. Sweat covered his skin like a light, suffocating plastic bag. Everything was seen through blinking, fuzzy sight.

He groaned, rolling into sitting position and gazing blearily around him. Where the fuck was he?

"Tony? Oh, god damn, man." Clint was squinting at him with a twisted expression a few feet away. Tony grimaced, that couldn't mean anything good.

"What? Missing tooth? Black eye? Mohawk?" He experimentally ran a hand over his face, feeling a few sore patches of skin, but nothing that would garner Clint's characteristically diva reaction.

"No, man. Um, there's something...glowing in your...uh, chest?" Clint was staring at him like he'd grown two heads.

Damn.

He looked down, following Hawkeye's gaze to his bare chest. Lovely. Shirt. He needed a shirt. "What the fuck happened last night?" He scrabbled to his feet, his eyes racing around the trashed house for his somehow-missing shirt. What had he done this time? God damn it.

Hawk watched him, agape, until realization dawned across his face. "Oh. Oh. Tony. This isn't good." He whipped out his phone, getting online in a few taps to the screen. "Oh, man, this is really...bad." Clint's voice was low and shocked.

Tony grabbed the phone, holding his newly recovered shirt to his chest- it barely hid the light blue glow coming from the arc reactor. His eyes scanned the news article splashed across the screen before him.

Well. Fuck.

_Last night, billionaire and crown prince of Stark Industries exposed a new genius creation to the world- straight from it's perch in his chest. The unveiling of the 'arc reactor' as he dubbed it, was unexpected and unannounced. Stark Industries creative teams have been infertile for years, the deceased Howard Stark having stopped all efforts to create anything other than weapons since his wife's death six years ago. _

There, Tony stopped reading and sat down by Clint with a huff. This wasn't good. "Dude. Loki." Clint's blue eyes were glimmering in concern.

Oh, well god damn it.

Fuck his life, so very hard.

* * *

Loki let the warm water run down his sore, black-and-blue body as tears ran down his face. He should've gone to the hospital, reported Thanos, possibly gotten the rapist sent to jail this time. Instead, he was in the shower, washing away every scrap of evidence. He leaned back against the tile, letting his head thump back against the hard wall. Flashbacks from _that_ moment flooded his head, making his shoulder's tense and his legs get weak.

He sunk down, feeling the hot water from the shower pound lightly on his skin like rain drops. He let his head fall down to rest in the cradle of his arms, crossed atop his knees. Bone-on-bone-on-bone. Just like Thanos had liked him. No wonder...It all made a little more sense.

_Thanos looked down at him on the bed, still exhausted and boneless from the less than gentle intimacy from moments before. A dull pain was starting to stretch over him. He doubted he would be able to walk straight in the morning, but Thanos had no sympathy. _

_"You should go on a diet." Thanos shrugged on a shirt, not noticing when Loki's green eyes shot open. "You could lose a few pounds." The gruff tone in his voice cut deep. Loki tried to keep the stinging tears out of his eyes._

_He nodded, running his hands back through his hair. It was getting long, long enough for Thanos to wrap it around his hand and pull far too hard for comfort. He seemed to love the expression of pain on Loki's face- he winced to realize it got the other man 'excited' and swallowed down the disgust in his throat. _

_"You know, cut down on sugar, carbs," Thanos wrinkled his nose. "All that sugary coffee you get from Starbucks is making you fat, Loki." He looked down at Loki condescendingly._

_Loki stared up at the ceiling numbly. His hand rested on his ribs, the sharp bones digging into his palm uncomfortably and he could feel the pulse in his stomach jump furiously. His skin was too thin for him to wear anymore. The brief idea of cutting it and letting some of that thick, gooey blood out entered his mind and squatted there, festering. When Thanos came over, those thoughts visited and refused to leave the comfortable confines of his troubled mind._

_"Okay, Thanos. Whatever you think." He murmured, running his fingers across the dips and grooves of his rib cage. _

_Thanos leaned down to engage Loki in a hard, biting kiss that left Loki with bruised lips and short of breath- and not in a good way. He watched the broad back leave his room, and listened for the front door to slam before he sat up. His head dropped into the cradle of his wide, long hands in despair. He was sinking further every day. Why? Why couldn't he be happy like Thanos expected him to be? The man was gorgeous, and he wanted to be with Loki! He should've been ecstatic. What was wrong with him?_

_He shuffled into the bathroom, looking at his sunken, black-ringed eyes, frowning at the sharp cheekbones and ghastly pale skin that stared back. His verdant eyes were dull, listless. His hair hung in lank, sweaty strands down his back, tangled by Thanos' thoughtless fingers. _

_He hated what he saw._

_Under the sink, he shuffled around for a moment, finally drawing out a sharp silver razor from behind some soap and cologne and some old eyeliners. It lay in the palm of his hand, looking so delicate and harmless. But he knew it had a terrible bite, a tear-jerking sting, a harsh burn. He knew the mark of this monster, so graceful and glittering. He loved it, and he hated it. It was his master, and he it's willing slave. Loki was so enslaved, to so many things and people and feelings. It broke him down, corroded his soul, shattered his heart and stomped on his strength like he was nothing. Like all the little pieces of him that were slowly being desecrated were nothing. He was a speck on the planet, and just the dirt on somebody's shoes in this world. What did he matter?_

* * *

_Two months later, Loki saw something different in the mirror. Thin, skeletal pale. Angry, broken veins bleeding across the white in jagged, violent red lines. They were starting to fade into the white, trying to hide in shame with the rest of his skin- the appearance of normality but the shadow of pain, hatred, self deprecation. He was destroying himself. _

_"You look good this morning." Thanos dragged a hand through Loki's hair, pulling it down his back and pressing a kiss to red, emotionless lips._

_Loki nodded. _

_He knew._

_Finally._

Loki stared down at the hollow indentation of his hips, the way his stomach curved inward, the hollow curvature of his ribs. His knees were knobby, his wrists merely fragile bone. He was right back where he'd been three years ago. Breaking point. Too tiny to feel, too broken to smile, too introverted to get help. He was so far down, he couldn't see the light above him any longer. There was no hope in Loki's broken mind. What was there to go on for?

"Loki?" Someone tapped on the door, a familiar voice breaking him out of his reverie. Anthony was here.

Loki sniffled a bit, staring at the locked door through the crystalline water resting on his long eyelashes. They dropped off with every blink, only for more to gather in their stead. Tears mixed in with the shower's spray, turning his vision hazy and warped.

"Loki? Sweetie? Are you okay?" He could hear Stark sitting down outside the door. "I- Well, Clint told me that you got beat up last night." He could practically see the boy biting his lip, hesitating past the caring words and launching into a long, rambling, nervous soliloquy. It brought a stinging smile to Loki's split lips. "For some reason, I don't think that's all that happened. He told me not to come here last night, so I didn't. I got drunk, somehow ended up revealing my arc reactor." Anthony chuckled. "Pretty stupid, eh? I was so... so angry and hurt and confused, Lo-Lo. I didn't understand why you didn't want to see me; until this morning, when I woke up and realized that I _had_ seen you beaten and bruised before. But I'd never seen you after you..." Loki was digging his teeth into his cut lips, forcing back a whimper that betrayed exactly how _smart_ his engineer was. "I _need_ to see you, Loki. I need _you,_ baby. I can't be alone, not anymore. You've _ruined_ me, you _perfect_ bastard." There was no teasing tone in Anthony's buttery-warm voice, just care and tenderness and seriousness and love. Wondrous, mind-blowing _love._

Loki sat, his head buried in his arms and the water turning cold on his skin. He was shivering, squeezing his eyes shut and hardly breathing. This was a decision that would alter their lives. If he opened that door, admitted that Anthony was right, he would be opening a door that would suck their lives into something ever intertwined, something that could never be severed or broken apart no matter the miles and fights and sex and irritation between them. It would seal them together for eternity. Because if Loki opened up to Anthony, he would be opening himself up for the man to see completely and fully. He would be vulnerable.

Anthony had already taken this step, in showing Loki his arc reactor and telling him everything that had happened in Afghanistan. He had told him- breaking down, scared, afraid of the world- he had trusted Loki. It was something neither of them would ever forget, that night, that rooftop, that secret shared. And if Loki told Anthony what Thanos had done- irregardless of the outcome- it would be something branded on them forever, marking them as each other's in an intimate and frankly, terrifying, way.

Slowly- and gingerly, because _fuck_ did he _hurt-_ Loki shut off the shower and dried off and yanked on some black boxers and a forest green tank top. He gathered his damp hair back into a tight, neat ponytail. Then he faced the door.

He could feel Anthony's presence on the flip-side, waiting patiently for Loki to make up his mind.

Fun Fact #26: Loki's never been treated with patience. Not by Thor, Odin, Frigga, Thanos. Everyone expected him to make up his mind and have the answer in a split-second. But not Anthony. Never Anthony. Anthony treated him like a princess, babying him and waiting on him and being soft and patient with him- like Loki would break under too much pressure. This just proves the wisdom Anthony had when it comes to all things Loki Laufeyson.

Loki turned the handle and practically collapsed into the waiting arms, wrapping his thin arms around Anthony's neck and holding him tightly. It hurt, it hurt to feel those strong arms so tight with love around his bruised and abused body. And it hurt to feel such intense, desperate love from someone just like him- who'd been hurt just like him, who'd been abused day in and day out for most of his life. It hurt like a gushing wound being cauterized. The healing always hurt. But when would the wounds stop reopening, when would they finally be healed?

* * *

_**A week later.**_

* * *

Tony was bouncing in place, waiting for Loki to come out of the bathroom so they could leave. He was...nervous. Really, this was a bad idea- which both he and Loki were prone to have- yet, they were going anyways. Because, y'know, Loki couldn't back down and he'd be fine and even if he wasn't, Tony was there. It'd be fine. If _fine_ were now defined as a horribly traumatic, completely unnecessary evening spent at the college dorms. It was a Christmas party. Another party so soon after Loki'd been attacked by Thanos- and yeah, Tony was positive the son of a bitch wouldn't miss this lovely opportunity to further traumatize Loki- seemed like a superbly stupid idea.

But, when Loki stepped out of the bathroom, running his hands through his hair and reading a message from Natasha, all thoughts other than '_Loki_' were effectively wiped from his mind. Because, Loki was stunning. He took Tony's breath away and he felt his heart stutter over a few uneven beats before getting back on track and sprinting against his ribcage. If he had ever doubted that he could lust after a boy-_ boy_ meaning Loki- those doubts had disappeared and his mind had plummeted to the gutters.

Loki was dressed in a dark gold top which hung loosely off porcelain shoulders, and dipped low down his back, giving Tony the perfect view of that snowy expanse of skin and muscle. His pants were dark green skinny jeans that, yeah, really didn't leave much to the imagination- but if Tony were being honest, he was imagining a lot right now. Boots clad his feet, toes pointing and giving him the appearance of an extremely tall, sexy elf. Inky curls were straightened down Loki's back, swishing back and forth against pallid shoulders.

"Are you-" Loki looked up and frowned. "Are you okay?" His voice was low and sultry- wasn't it always?- and pretty much pushed Tony over the edge he's been toeing for a few minutes now.

He caught Loki in his arms and pressed him gently- because he's been handling Loki like a glass figurine ever since last week- against the wall. Their lips joined like a meeting of two halves joining to become one, true whole. And Tony has felt this way since he saw Loki, since he locked his brown eyes with those burning emerald ones, since he first called Loki 'Frosty'. He had been wanting this boy since the first time he caught a glimpse of snow white skin and jet black hair and irascible green eyes. Because Loki made it hard for Tony to catch his breath, to remember what speech was, how to not trip over his own feet. Loki changed the game completely.

_"Love isn't real. It's a game. Whoever gets out first, wins."_ He still remembered saying that to Clint when he first arrived at this college, bitter and spurned by love from all outlets. And Clint had looked at him cross-eyed, wondering how someone so young could be so old and cold. Tony supposed it hadn't taken him long to figure it out, after he got drunk and spilled his entire life story to the young, bright-eyed archer who'd then exposed a tender spot for his best friend. Tony would never forget crying into the blue-eyed blond's t-shirt about his father and how unfair life was. He owed Clint a lot.

But he owed Loki even more.

Which was probably why it was Loki he was kissing, Loki he was in love with, Loki he was desperate to become one with. If he had had the choice, he would have melded their bodies and souls and minds together. He would have embraced Loki's cool winter in his own summery heat, he would have adopted Loki's brilliant verdant eyes instead of his dull brown, he would have let Loki's pale skin overcome his tan. Because Loki was perfect, and Tony paled in comparison.

His hands wandered across Loki's back, feeling cool smooth skin under his fingertips. Loki's fingers had tangled in his hair, tightening his grip and pulling on it softly. Tony picked up the teenager, pulling lithe legs around his waist and holding Loki to the wall with a growl. Boot clad feet knocked against the back of his thighs. His tongue slipped through Loki's lips, and the purr from the boy in his grip made his hormones go into frantic mode.

Christmas party? _What_ Christmas party?

Tony pulled away from the kiss, taking in Loki's breathless, crimson lips and his hazy, blown forest irises and the way his shirt had ridden up slightly to reveal pale hipbones. "Mmm. You're so gorgeous. So, so, so gorgeous. I can't believe how fucking beautiful you are." He purred the words against Loki's jugular, kissing and nipping at his skin between the words. Loki's legs gripped him tightly, and the world seemed to dip and spin and fall from focus in Tony's eyes- which were filled with Loki and only Loki.

"Stop...we have to go to the party." Loki's voice was sensual and as lost to the world as Tony felt, the words were feeble attempts to be serious, to stop thinking about how much he wanted exactly what Tony did. And Tony knew this.

"Fuck the party." He growled, digging his teeth in a little harder as a reprimand. "I want you." Tony's intentions are anything but pure, in this moment- like they ever are at any other time- and Loki has suddenly become a god, a prince, something ethereal and otherworldly in his arms.

"Anthony, we- we..." His words drifted off into a high-pitched, soft moan. His back arched off the wall Tony'd backed him into, and unintentionally pushed their hips into hard contact. Tony jolted from the pleasure ripping through him, and yeah, for a while, he'd forgotten how much he loved sex. Especially sex with Loki Laufeyson.

"Oh, fuck." He murmured, pulling Loki tightly against him, slotting their bodies together perfectly. He rolled his hips in an experimental motion, feeling Loki's legs embrace his waist unyielding and tight, hearing the growl escape the marble white throat.

He pulled the slender teen up into his arms and laid him across his bed gently. Loki's eyes were squeezed shut, and everything came flooding back to Tony like a brick to the head. Loki had been raped. Loki had been hurt. Loki had been abused. He hovered on all fours above the teenager, stroking back a few strands of black bangs that curled across Loki's eyelids delicately. One verdant eye slit open slowly, eyeing him curiously. Asking him what the fuck he was waiting for. And yeah, Tony's about to lose his mind- but there's that one sensible, caring, tender part of him that won't let him move for Loki's sake. And the more time that goes on, the more that side of him takes over, growing and expanding and placing Loki's well-being above anything Tony desires.

"Do you want to do...this?" He feels worry blossoming in his chest, grabbing his heart in a vice grip and showing no signs of letting go anytime soon. For Loki was all Tony had, all he loved in this wide world, and Tony would rather rip out the arc reactor than hurt Loki any further.

Loki raised a perfect, midnight black eyebrow. "Anthony, if you don't shut the fuck up and make love to me-mmf!" A surprised growl ripped from Loki's throat and vibrated against Tony's lips as he pushed their mouths together in the most passionate kiss he had ever given.

His brow was furrowed, because he was determined to make this erase all memory of Thanos, and what Thanos had done, and how much Thanos had hurt Loki. Tony wanted to eradicate the pain and the fear and the insecurities. Tony wanted Loki in such a haze of pleasure that he couldn't remember his own name. And god damn, he was going to make that happen. He was going to give Loki the night of his life.

* * *

Pepper drove into the Stark mansion garage slowly. The cars were all here, but there were no lights coming from the window in Tony's room. She caught sight of a green hoodie flung in the back seat of Tony's favorite car, and scowled. That kid was here. The one with the weird name, like Laurie or Landry or something. It wasn't that she didn't like him, it was more that she didn't like how Tony was all over him all the time. She knew Tony had an affinity for physical contact with people, and loved to hug and kiss on his friends- if he considered them best friends- but this seemed...different. Like, he was dating the boy or something.

How laughable! The infamous playboy, Anthony Stark, fucking a boy.

She snorted at the idea and parked beside Tony's car. It was waxed to a pristine shine, the silver paint gleaming like a samurai blade. It was beautiful. Not quite as beautiful as the dismantled car sitting on blocks in the middle of the work space, though. It was Tony's current project. The elegant vehicle was fire engine red with gold trim, and black leather interior. A few fingerprint smudges of black tarnished the shining paint; and she marveled at how wide Tony's hands were, the fingerprints spread far apart. She had held that hand at the funeral, while Tony half ignored her to murmur in the new boy's ear. She remembered how his arm had been slung around thin, almost deceptively feminine shoulders and how he had pulled the dark-haired boy into a heartbreaking tight hug. There had been tears in the other boy's eyes when he wrapped his arms around Tony, comforting him and whispering something that had a calming effect on her best friend.

Her best friend. Hmm. Maybe once, but now? She wasn't so sure. She hadn't seen him all Christmas break. So, she was taking matters into her own hands. She needed to know where her and Tony stood. This had been going on for years- and yes, most would say that was just Tony's way, but Pepper knew better. Tony may have been flighty and scared of commitment, but she had been different. When he was younger, they had been thick as thieves. She had kept his secrets and watched as he broke down from his father's hatred and abuse. She watched him become the man he was today. No one got to take him away from her, especially not some scrawny excuse of a teenage boy.

So, she used her key and let herself into the house. All was quiet. Deceptively quiet, like someone had just been shot and the ensuing silence nearly shattered one's sanity before an ear-splitting scream broke the serenity of the moment. But, there was no scream. There was no sound whatsoever. Just silence and peace. All the way down the hallway to Tony's room, there wasn't a single sound except for her soft footfall on the expensive hardwood floors. His door was propped open, so she peeked in.

* * *

Loki's breathing was heavy and he was sweating and panting and probably a hot mess from Anthony's hands fucking up his hair and Anthony's sharp teeth marking every erotic expanse of skin he had. The pleasure clouding his mind was becoming overwhelming, the heat within him was pushing him to the height of ecstasy. All he could think was: "Anthony, Anthony...Anthony." It fell from his lips like a keening mantra. His entire body tensed as his voice cut off and the pleasure turned his eyesight white and blinded. Hot liquid spread through the inside of his body, Anthony's warm skin was flush against his and suffocated him with that salacious fire that was eating him alive. "Ohhh. Fuck." He growled, feeling every muscle in him tighten till he was wire-taut and shaking.

He relaxed into a loose bundle of exhaustion and satisfaction, feeling Anthony drop onto the mattress beside him. Hot breath fanned against the back of his neck as Anthony's warm skin pulled him flush against a chest and arc reactor. He smiled, feeling the electronic pulse of the device against his spine. It felt good, reminding him that Anthony was real, and that this wasn't just a dream, that he wasn't going to wake up to a different reality in the morning. Rough fingertips traced gentle patterns into his side, running across his ribs and down to the edge of his hip and exploring the soft skin between his hips bones and his rib cage. It was soft and searching and every nerve came back with the message that these fingers loved him and cared about him and that he could trust these fingers. He could trust this man who had taught him again, that love was gentle and kind and gave as much as it took.

By this, Loki remembered that Thanos didn't love him. And, because Thanos had hurt him, didn't mean everyone else who tried to touch him would do the same. And yes, he would still flinch away from tall men with cruel blue eyes. And yes, it would be hard to hug anyone except Anthony ever again. But he had recovered once before, and he could do it again- with Anthony's help. So, he reached for the hand tracing constellations into his pale flesh and threaded their fingers together, sewing them palm-to-palm.

"You're my heart, Loki Laufeyson." Anthony sleepily murmured, his eyes already closed and his words slurred.

Loki melted.

* * *

Pepper took in the sight before her and clamped her hands over her mouth to hide the shocked squeak that broke from her lips. Tony was in bed with that- that- that person. The blanket that Tony had had since first grade was draped across their legs, laying low across Loki's back and slanting across Tony's hips just high enough to keep things from being uncomfortable. They were laying, tangled together, eyes closed, noses touching lightly. She could see one of Tony's scared hands wrapped around the pale young man's neck gently- a touch she'd always yearned for. It burned her to know that this man got her true love's affection and attention, instead of her.

Tony stretched in his sleep, clutching the skinny teenager closer to him and murmuring something incoherent into black curls that fell across his face. It made something angry and viciously jealous roil in Pepper's stomach. This wasn't right, this wasn't what she planned! Tony was supposed to find her irresistible and gorgeous and want her desperately. He was supposed to fall in love with her!

She couldn't rip her eyes away from the two in the bed. No matter how badly she wanted to- and knew she should, because god knows when they'll wake- she couldn't force her feet to move away from where she stood, rooted to the floor by shock and heartbreak and envy. Even when Loki stirred in her best friend's arms and her heart jumped into her throat. Green eyes blinked open and a smile spread across his face as he looked at her boy. Hers.

Then they roved the room and landed on her. "Holy fuck!" Loki practically jumped out of his skin and yanked the blanket up to his shoulders. "What the fuck are you doing here? How'd you get in?" His voice was furious and his pretty green eyes were wide. Pepper smirked.

Then she remembered Tony, who was sitting up and staring at them both with bleary brown eyes and a confused expression. "Wha happened?" His voice was slurred and she could see his chest move fast with heavy breathes. Then something glowing blue in a silver circle in his chest caught her eye.

What the ever-loving fuck was happening to her life?

"What is that?" She pointed a shaking finger towards Tony's still-heaving chest.

All eyes focused on Tony's chest. Then Loki looked at her with one eyebrow arched under messy, tangled hair which fell across his hair in a- dare she say it?- very attractive way. "You don't watch the news much, do you?"

She wanted to slap him.

* * *

Frankly, everything was happening much too fast for Tony. First Pepper found out about him- and really, like Loki had said, didn't she watch the news? He had kissed Loki on TV when he got back from Afghanistan; it was all over the news for weeks. And now, she had seen the arc reactor, and fuck, that was going to be a pain in the ass to explain. And he knew she was going to be beyond furious when she found out he had told Loki months before her. And really, had this even been telling her? She had sneaked into his house and found him and Loki asleep together, shirtless and arc reactor glowing just to spite him. The damn thing couldn't light his way to the bathroom- as his poor, stubbed toe could attest- but it could attract his best friend's attention. -snort-

Loki had pulled the blanket around him as soon as Tony pulled on some boxers, and really, he looked a little demonic with barbaric hair and eyes dark enough to boil anyone's blood. Tony shivered and smiled a little because damn, his boyfriend looked hot and dangerous and on fire. But now was not the time to get a boner because Loki was sexy and he was a virile young man with far too many hormones. Now, he had to be serious.

"C'mon, Pep. Let's go get some coffee started while Loki gets dressed and prepares to kill you." He looked over his shoulder to wink at his now-grinning boyfriend. Pretty ruby lips blew him a kiss.

"Tony, what's going on? You're...gay? And what is that thing in-in your chest?" She was starting to sound hysterical, so Tony directed her to sit down with gentle hands. Best to take this slowly.

"Yes, I am. Well." He sighed and looked down. "I'm not exactly sure what I am, I just, I know I love Loki, Pepper. He-" Tony smiled at the coffee filter in his hands. "He makes everything so much...brighter. Like, everything's okay when he's around." Tony shrugged. "I don't like any other men, but god damn, I love that man." He sighed again. "As far as the arc reactor-"

"The what?" Her voice was sharp. He looked up to see anger in her eyes. "You're in love with a man, Tony? What would your father say?" The words stung as they poured out of her mouth. "He would be disgusted with this! You are not gay, Anthony. You know that! Why are you letting this...this...freak get to you? You've been with dozens, probably hundreds of women! Something like that doesn't all of a sudden change." She folded her arms, her eyes dark and her mouth set in a firm line.

Tony was taken aback. Pepper had never once yelled at him. Never had she been prejudicial or judgmental. She had been the one person to take all of his crazy, wild, desperate self-destruction in stride, before Loki came along. What exactly was her problem?

"I'd prefer you not speak to my boyfriend like that, Ms. Potts." The dangerously low voice behind Tony startled him. He hadn't realized Loki was in hearing. He grimaced at the floor. Ahem, cat fight incoming. "And, quite frankly, I don't see how it's any of your business what his sexual orientation is, unless he were fucking you." The coldness in Loki's voice sent chills up Tony's spine.

Pepper snarled her lip. "I was talking to Tony." She snapped. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" The prissy tone in her voice made Tony sigh. It was going to be a long evening. If it weren't for the incredible sex, he wished they had gone to the Christmas party- but, as usual, there was no occasion under which Tony would give up sex.

"I am where I belong. Why should I go anywhere else?" Loki's arms slipped around Tony's waist, holding him to his chest snugly. Tony couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

"He's not going anywhere, Pep. We all need to talk about this." He ran a hand over his face and looked at the sputtering coffee pot. "We're all going to sit down with some coffee and talk like the civil adults we all are." He looked at Pepper pointedly. "Civil, being the key word."

It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Loki inspected his nails in feigned boredom. Pepper was a little much to handle for him, and her possessiveness over Anthony was starting to piss him off. Make no mistake, Loki was not under the impression that he owned Anthony or his heart, but he was sure as hell not willing to let some little drama queen steal his boyfriend. And that's precisely what she was attempting to do. Cue a pissed off Loki Laufeyson.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me all of this?" Pepper was ignoring Loki to speak directly to Anthony. He scowled at her back irascibly.

Fun Fact# 27: Loki isn't naturally misanthropic. He actually used to like people, hanging out with people. He was never popular, but he had a large group of friends that he kept close ties to. These people have since disappeared, one-by-painful-one, until Loki slowly detached himself from society and relationships. Perhaps Thanos was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Anthony shrugged. "I didn't think about it. I was more worried about Loki's reaction to it all." Loki's eyes fell do the glowing blue arc reactor in the engineer's chest. He loved that piece of metal. It was the only thing keeping Anthony alive.

At first, he had hated the arc reactor. It symbolized how fragile Anthony was, how easy it would be for Loki to lose him. All he could think of when he looked at it, was how close he had come to losing the man who now had his unconditional, passionate love.

Fun Fact #28: Loki has always been a mercurial lover. He's been in and out of bound-to-fail relationships since he was fifteen. It was always about sex, or loneliness, or a desperate attempt to forget whatever was going on in his family. Never was it about love, because Loki was too smart for Cupid. No, he was far too intelligent to be shot by that arrow, to get caught with his heart in someone else's hands. Until now. And he'll be damned before he lets this chick fuck up his one and only good relationship. This wasn't healthy, by any means, but it made him happy.

Pepper snorted. "I've been your friend your entire life, Tony. You should have told me." Loki could hear genuine hurt in her voice. "I've been worried about you; you just disappeared off the map. I haven't heard hide nor hair of you for months. I came to see you today so we could spend some time together, maybe go out for dinner or something." She gazed down at the half-full coffee mug in her hands, and Loki could tell her fingers were trembling.

It all clicked. "You know he'll never love you, correct? If that was going to happen, it would have long before now." Loki's voice was gentle. He was just stating what she already knew, although, it wasn't likely that she'd see it that way.

When she spoke, her voice was quivering and humbled. "I do. But a girl has to have some hope." Loki's heart stirred, reminding him that he wasn't a completely unsympathetic person. "I'm sorry for intruding upon your evening, Tony." She stood, her hair falling to shield her face- probably to hide the tears Loki could hear in her voice- and reaching for her bag. Then her blue eyes caught Loki's, burning threateningly. "I do not like you. Nor do I trust you. Be aware, if you hurt him, or break his heart, I will personally skin you and use you as a rug in my living room."

Loki almost started laughing, it wasn't the first threat he'd received from girls that thought they owned some stake in Anthony's heart. Instead, he nodded complacently, mostly to keep things from getting violent. Emotions were running high in this suddenly small room, the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Nevertheless, Loki felt pity for her, because she would gather herself and walk out that door. Then, she would retch up what felt like everything she had ever eaten in her entire life. Tears would crawl down her face and within her, her heart would break into a million pieces.

Suffice to say, Loki knows what she's feeling.

* * *

Tony stared up at the ceiling, illuminated by the glow from the reactor. Sleep wouldn't come, with the events of the day and the worries of his life roiling around in his head with a prime mixture of bad memories and PTSD. Loki's arms were around his chest, his nose pressed against Tony's neck, and Tony could feel his heart beating against his side. A soft fluttery feeling, like a butterfly trapped inside Loki's chest, aching to break free from the pain inside that small being that could crush its wings and take away its freedom forever.

He had seen something new in Loki, today. Something willing to fight, willing to risk everything- even his fragile pride- for someone else. That someone else being Tony. And there was something startling and vulnerable and passionate in that that made Tony's heart clench giddily. Until that black cloud above his head thundered, rumbling about the upcoming future in which all of this would end. There was no doubt about the ending, merely the path toward it. Which path would he take?

Could he ride this storm out till the end?

Or would he take the coward's way out?

* * *

A/N: **I leave you with...what's this? Not a cliffhanger? Wait. Am I sick? No. Have I been hit in the head? Not that I'm aware of. So, enjoy my temporary insanity in giving this chapter, not a happy ending, but at least not one that puts someone in life-threatening danger or in the midst of a terrible argument or some other emotional trauma. So. **

**Yeahhhh, this was supposed to end like...several chapters ago. But, my chapters have been shorter, thus adding a few chapters till the end. Whoops. **

**Pleaseeee review. And yeah, I didn't read back over this, so I won't be surprised if it's complete shit. Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoyed.**

**AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A KICKASS FOURTH. Or, if you're not American, I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A KICKASS WEEKEND.**

**I love you all like I love new words. Yeah, _that_ much.**

**The end of this pointless A/N.**

**~xoxox, Rayn**


	26. Chapter 26- Your Guardian Angel

A/N: **The chapter title is Your Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Not because it particularly pertains to the chapter, but because it pertains to me and this chapter. So. As selfish as that is, we all have to do something to heal ourselves sometimes. Unwittingly, this chapter started a healing process for me.**

**There's really not much triggering shit in this. (WOW, I know). So, please enjoy ;). (Even if I'm a selfish bitch, I selfishly want you to fall more in love with this story). **

**Hugs and kisses, babes. **

**P.S. You might want to read the one-shot I wrote, Up In The Air, because it kind of has to do with this chapter. Or you can not. It's not _necessary._**

* * *

Tony looked out the window blindly. The wind was whipping around the car, sounding dull and muffled in his ears. Everything seemed blurred and inconsequential. Perhaps this was how it felt, to be so close to the end, to see the light in the tunnel closing up as you ran towards the end. It was as if all those emotions that Tony had been feeling since the explosion, all the drive and love and pain and desire, was just a mirage. Like, just maybe, he had really died in that searing blast of heat. Perhaps all of the things he had been feeling were just a few struggling chemical impulses sent to his nerves as his body and mind shut down.

Tony should have died in that bomb.

It would have been more merciful, like shooting a dog with rabies. Instead, here he sat, feeling everything good and right about him drain away. There was something in his blood, sucking it all out like a leech. With every day that passed, he felt more numb.

Except with Loki.

Loki was a cauldron of searing sensations. His skin sparked electricity in Tony's chest, made his fingertips feel like they were on fire. Every time he looked into Loki's green eyes, something stirred in the pit of his stomach- reminding him he was still very alive. Loki's jet black hair and milky white skin and emerald eyes and crimson lips made the world seem colored by shades so brilliant he hadn't believed they could exist at first. Loki was something ethereal and unreal, Tony almost couldn't believe he was flesh and blood. That pulse beneath his skin, jumping in his neck; the pounding of his heart beneath Tony's hand; the inhale and exhale that whispered against Tony's skin when Loki slept; the warmth of his skin, breathing life into Tony's cold body- it was all profound and astounding.

He looked down at the small box cradled in his hands. Two days from today was Christmas. Loki's gift had arrived today. Opening the lid, he looked down at the delicate chain, from which hung a small effigy of a snowflake. It was fragile, small, shining. He could have snapped it in two between his fingers. As he let it run back and forth across his fingertips, it glinted in the waning winter sunshine. It was perfect for Loki, his 'Frosty'.

The phone in the seat next to him buzzed. It was Clint. "Hey, man." He murmured, closing the box and letting his eyes once more settle on the scene outside- the hustle and bustle of New Yorkers, racing to get last minute Christmas gifts under heavy, downy clouds. The weather forecast a white holiday.

"Hey, Tony. Are you and Loki coming over tomorrow? The campus is like...insane. You guys have to see it. All the lights will finally be up. Steve and Thor really got into the festive spirit this year." The amusement in his best friend's voice brought a smirk to Tony's lips.

"Of course. I'm pretty sure Natasha threatened Loki with a slow, painful death if he wasn't there." He remembered the vibrant redhead and Loki, both bent over a computer to find a gift for Clint.

"I'm not even sure why she goes to these things. I said I'd stay home with her if she didn't go. She must be a masochist. I have claw marks in my arm from the last time we went to a party." Clint sounded exasperated by his girlfriend's trademark misanthropic personality. Tony smirked, her and Loki were two of a kind.

He frowned, "I told Loki we shouldn't go, given what happened last time." He closed his eyes, trying to keep the baying heartbreak away from the forefront of his mind. "But he said he had to." He shrugged, opening his eyes to the soft fall of snow on his windshield.

He could hear Clint sigh on the other end of the line. "I wouldn't let him out of your sight, this time. I mean, you know Thanos is gonna be there. And Thor." He paused. "Tony, if Nat sees that motherfucker, she's gonna murder him." The commination in his voice promised that he wouldn't hold the pint-sized red head back.

Tony growled. "I'll help her."

For almost a year, Tony had been chomping at the bit to beat the ever-loving fuck out of Thanos. With Thor's help, of course. But, Loki had forbade it. And, when it came to Tony and Thor, Loki's word was law. Nevertheless, he couldn't say he hadn't daydreamed about it on more than one occasion. There were some things that made a non-violent soul want to kill. Thanos was one of those things.

"Man, I would too. But hey, maybe he won't come? It's possible?" The hope in Clint's voice was struggling as much as Tony was. In a world such as Loki and Tony's, Hope was a refugee, homeless and pitifully skinny. Right now, Tony would say Hope was on it's death bed.

He shrugged. "Maybe." It was a one-in-a-million chance.

Maybe he and Loki were a one-in-a-million chance.

* * *

Loki was searching. Something was lost. This is a moment in which Loki is about to tear his hair out, and Anthony Stark is the most irritating being on earth- not that this a rare occurrence, in fact, it's nearly an everyday thing. Suddenly, all those reasons Loki had refused to move in with Stark were flooding back.

a) Loki has a very short amount of patience. Once it is used up, it takes nearly three years to gain back.

b) Anthony has the potential to drive any stable, sane, normal human being crazy.

c) Loki is neither stable nor sane nor normal.

d) They are both passionate, and passion sometimes leads to violence.

e) Loki has the potential to go bananas and kill Anthony if he doesn't shut the fuck up in five seconds.

"Loki, what are you doing?" Anthony chirped, and at this point, Loki can actually see every atom of the man's body jumping. "I'm ready. And it's pouring snow, would you look at that? Maybe we'll get a couple feet. God, the last time I saw snow like this...well, it was last year, but it was fantastic. Like everyone at the campus was sledding and drinking like crazy. Although, some guy did die of hypothermia. So, make sure you wear that trench coat you're always bitching about not getting to wear. It's gonna be motherfucking cold-"

"Anthony!" The man froze. "Shut. Up." He snapped, covering his face with his hands.

Really, it's not that his boyfriend's sometimes incessant rambling is that irritating. And it's not that Loki's just that acrimonious. It's that he's about to go to a Christmas party, and yeah, that's about to send him into panic-attack mode. He needs his boyfriend. He needs a hug from his boyfriend. He needs his boyfriend to give less of a fuck about the snow, and way more of a fuck about his precarious mental state. If these things don't happen, it's very likely that Loki will have a terrifying mental breakdown.

Someone kneels in front of where he sitting on the floor, his knees to his chest and his face buried in the crook his uncomfortably bony elbows. "Darling, tell me what's wrong." Gentle fingers touched by tragedy and unhappiness pulled his limp body against a warm chest thrumming with electricity and life. It was strange, when his ear rested against Anthony's heart, hearing an uneven beat and a rhythmic electric hum mix together in their own duet.

"I'm scared." His voice was a whispered croak, rough from ragged emotion and the fear that threatened to suffocate him from the inside out.

Anthony gripped his shoulders tighter, pulling him further into warmth and the scent of gasoline and car and the soft echo of hot summer days spent sweaty and sandy in Malibu. "Please, Lo, let's stay home tonight. We don't need to go to this party. Natasha will understand. I just want you here, with me, safe." The soft, buttery tone of his inventor's voice nearly broke Loki into a cascade of sobs and tears and snot.

Because, yes, that's what he wanted. All Loki wanted in the world was to stay here, with this warm, cozy teddy bear of a man and sleep and make love and pretend that they were the only two people in the world blessed with this amazing thing called love and sex and happiness- even if the illusion only lasted twelve amorous hours. But he couldn't, because if he allowed himself to wimp out now, to hide now, to stay in the shadows and hide under a rock and pretend that he hadn't been hurt and violated and abused, than he would never be able to face himself again. He would see a coward- and honestly, Loki sees plenty of bad things in the mirror already, let's not add any more- and if there was one thing Loki refused to be, it was a coward. He would stand up, even if his legs shook.

"I can't." He cleared his throat, sniffling like a little kid. "I can't be afraid of him forever." He rubbed his face against Anthony's soft t-shirt, sighing into the gentle brush of the cotton against his hot skin. "I have to face him. It won't help any one for me to hide here, like some pathetic victim."

Anthony stiffened against him. "You are not pathetic, Loki. You are a victim! It's been two weeks!" He pushed Loki back, glaring into his eyes darkly. "Don't you dare think you're being pathetic or that this isn't entirely his fault. You did nothing wrong. This isn't your fault, Loki." And the pure desire to get his point through Loki's hard head was so touching that Loki nearly fell into a pitiful ball of tears again. He blinked back the stinging wetness assaulting his eyes once more.

"But-"

"No." Anthony's jaw was tight, and Loki could see a vein jumping furiously in the man's neck. "You are...an angel." Loki was surprised to see Stark's eyes glistening. "You didn't deserve this. And, I'll be damned if I allow you to think you're supposed to be fucking brave right now. You should cry, and you should be scared, and you should be allowed to hide here with me in your fucking pajamas on Christmas Eve while it snows outside. This should be god damn romantic. Not traumatic and tearful." The man sniffed, a wet tone coating his voice with tears and heartache. Something in Loki's chest ached.

Loki leaned forward, placing a tender kiss against Anthony's ruby red lips. "Never leave me, Anthony Stark." He whispered, their skin brushing and his fingers reaching to curl in the man's mud-colored curls. He liked how long the engineer's hair was getting, long enough to twist around Loki's fingers and tangle them together like their skin was twining and their beings were becoming one.

A few tears slipped down Stark's face. "Never. Not in a million years." He buried his face in Loki's neck. "You're my soulmate, Lo-Lo." He pressed his lips against Loki's racing pulse. "You're everything I want, or need, or desire, or breathe. I can't live without you." His fingers gripped Loki's side, one soft thumb rubbing against that puckered scar on Loki's ribcage, denoting the two moments when Loki's life felt like it was ending, exploding, imploding and burning down in wrathful flames of hatred and pain. A flair of white-hot, gut-gripping, tear-jerking memory and sensation pulsed through Loki's veins.

The moment was so intense, Loki almost couldn't handle it. He had never heard words like this, spoken from soft lips, breathed against his skin. It was like Stark was filling the cracks in his soul, where he had broken from being beaten and torn down and ripped apart. And it hurt, this foreign presence of love and compassion within him. It hurt being so close to such an alien being that actually gave a fuck if he lived or died, who didn't have an ulterior motive, who loved him. Loki had never been loved so unconditionally.

Fun Fact #29: Loki still doesn't understand how someone could love him. When he looks in the mirror, he sees a monster, a stolen relic, something used and discarded- torn and dirtied and cheap. He sees something revolting. He believes he is a dirty street dog, begging for scraps of love at a table filled to the brim. But all he gets is crumbs.

"No." He shakes his head, feeling the brush of Anthony's soft hair against the side of his jaw. "Don't say something like that. Don't..." He bites his lips and pulls away from the engineer looking at him with liquid, hurt brown eyes. "Don't tell me something like that. Don't lie to me." Of their own accord, his arms wrap around his ribs tightly, tears filling his eyes- obstructing his view of the crouching teenager.

He blinked, tears slipping down his cheeks, and suddenly, his vision was filled with Anthony's face. "Why would you think I was lying? I love you, Loki, you silly boy." A soft smile toys with the engineer's lips. Loki wants to kiss them. To make this moment get lost in hot breath and sweat and the heavy aroma of love.

Because Loki wants to run.

Because Loki's brain is telling him to get the fuck out.

While he still can.

* * *

Tony can almost see the wheels in Loki's brain churning. He can see the fear, the desire, the runaway in Loki's emerald eyes. They're the color of the sea- if the sea could run scared- and the waves within them threaten to wash Tony away, like he never existed. And who's to say he ever did? Or ever will, after this? Will he make an impression? Will he make Loki remember?

"I think, that when we're old, grey haired men one day, we'll look back and laugh at how scared we are right now." Loki murmured. "Or maybe, we'll just think how tragic it is that we didn't spend more time wondering at each other's mere existence like we wondered at comets and stars and the galaxies so far away." And Tony's kind of really having a hard time focusing with Loki's lips moving slowly and thoughtfully and forming words like they're sacred, and in this moment, Tony feels reverence. Because Loki is a god, and Tony, his devout zealot.

"I wonder how you can be so beautiful." Tony murmured, grinning. "And how you can somehow get me so tied in knots that I don't know how to move an inch." Tony kisses the tip of Loki's nose. "And how, somehow, you've made me believe in love and hope and devotion and commitment, and all those heathen words we couldn't utter without a shiver from the devil before." And yeah, Tony never talks like this, but something changed and Loki brought out the romantic in him. "All I ever want is you. All I ever yearn for is you, and your touch, and your heartbeat in my ear, and you in my arms." He presses a kiss to Loki's chin. "You're so beautiful, so unreal and unimaginable. Sometimes I think you don't exist." He whispers these confessions in Loki's ear, kissing the shell of his ear with breathy, seductive promises.

"Kiss me." It wasn't a command, nor a request. It was Loki speaking his mind for him, telling him what he told himself, to kiss, to touch, to hear and to imprint Loki on his skin and him on Loki's skin. Because time was running out, and they were getting tired, and this world was spinning slower.

As the stars slowly appeared, one by one, in the sky, Loki found bits of himself on Tony's skin, and Tony found his words on Loki's skin.

* * *

At the entrance, Tony could see Natasha fidgeting with Clint's collar, a worried frown on her face. They were late. But, Loki had insisted that he redo his hair after their, um, activities. It just wouldn't do to turn up at a party with sex hair. Tony was pretty sure he had done that on numerous occasions. It just proved how Loki was pulling him out of the apathetic rut he had been in for his entire life.

"Loki!" Natasha ran up and tackled Loki in a crushing hug. They ended up on the floor giggling, and whispering about god-knows-what as they pulled each other up from their black and green and white and red heap on the floor. "I thought you two would never get here." She eyed Tony, as if it were his fault they were 'tardy'. "You look gorgeous, Loki. Ugh. Your hair." She touched a long, straight lock of inky satin.

"It's terrible." He ran a hand back through it, making Tony's fingers itch to twine themselves in that soft midnight, the color of the night when the stars shone the brightest, blinking sleepily as they watched over the world like alien guardians. "I had to get Stark to help me straighten it." They both grimaced at each other, remembering Tony burning one finger to near third-degree burns. Suffice to say, Tony was pretty sure Loki would be keeping him away from his straightener from now on.

Clint burst out laughing. "I'd pay to see that!"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, Clint. It's so funny to imagine Anthony Stark, playboy billionaire, helping his boyfriend straighten his hair. Alert the tabloids." Tony grinned at Loki's acerbic, sardonic tone.

The raven-haired teen leaned against him, allowing Tony to wrap one arm around his waist and kiss his forehead tenderly. He grinned up at Tony, and yeah, all Tony wants is to kiss those lips, feel that butter-soft skin run line-to-line with his. He knows that euphoria he gets from feeling Loki cell-to-cell with him, lip-to-lip, leg against leg, body upon body. It's like a drug, coursing through his veins and giving him pleasure beyond comprehension. When they are together, naked, hot, barely able to inhale and exhale, Tony feels as if they exist on a whole other celestial plane.

"Tony." Loki and Natasha are talking, huddled together and murmuring so only they can hear, when Clint nudges Tony and nods towards the door. "What do we do now?" The hushed tone made Clint's voice sound raspy and harried. Tony felt cornered, like prey being eyed by a lion.

"You hold on to Natasha, and I'll get Loki. How about we get out of here. Back door, we can go out for drinks or something." He murmured, his eyes trained on the tall blue-eyed man with dark, lank hair.

Clint nodded, moving to wrap an arm around Nat's waist, while Tony grabbed Loki from behind in a hug. "Let's go out with Natasha and Clint, for drinks. Okay?" His voice is dark and seductive, the tone that make's Loki's eyes a little darker, a little deeper.

But the snowy-skinned man wasn't fooled. "He's here?" Tony wanted to deny it, to say no, to pretend like this wasn't all part of the plan to keep him sheltered and unbroken. But he couldn't. Nor was he given the chance.

"Loki! Tony!" Thanos' voice bellowed across the room, above the chit chat, the music, the laughter- which all came to a halt. Tony turned to see the man striding across the room, eyes pinning Loki to Tony's chest. A feral growl roiled in Tony's throat. He stopped in front of them, a wide smile across his face, eyes only for Loki. Tony gripped the shivering teenager closer. He was safe. No matter what. Tony would give his life for him. "Well, cat caught your tongue? Merry Christmas!" He slapped Loki's shoulder as if they had been friends forever.

"Happy Christmas, Thanos." Loki's voice was deep and far from strong, yet unwavering. Tony wanted to lock him away, save him from this pain, shield him from the unkind eyes all trained on him.

Then Tony saw a blessed sight. Two men, bigger than Thanos and far more angry, approaching. Steve and Thor. And they did not look happy- specifically Thor, because god knows, after he found out what Thanos had done, he was ready to chop Thanos' apart, limb-by-limb. Tony would happily watch.

"Thanos." Two meaty hands clapped down on the malicious man's shoulders. "How's it going?" Thor looked like the devil's henchman. Tony was appropriately awed- and somewhat scared, considering the fact that he was fucking this man's baby brother.

Thanos snarled like a threatened street dog. "Fuck off, Thor. This isn't your business." Loki had fully turned into Tony now, and was hiding his face in Tony's shoulder, not even bothering to watch his brother go all bodyguard for him.

"Oh, I beg to differ. When you raped my kid brother, it became my fucking business." And yeah, Tony might just feel like jumping for joy. Seeing the asshole that had plagued and tormented his tiny boyfriend for months on end, cowering and about to piss his pants, was a pretty good visual.

"Let's go, Tony." Natasha murmured, pulling him and Loki towards the door.

At this point, Loki was barely functioning. He was breaking down, the relief flooding off his skin and onto Tony's in waves. The force of it knocked another crater into his bleeding heart. "You're okay now, my lovely snowflake." He murmured, gathering the young man into his arms. "I've got you." The snow fell on them like cool, soft kisses. The sky was leaving her love on their skin in wet diamonds, tainting their hair and skin and even their clothes.

"Don't let go." Loki whispered, his voice ragged and raw. "Please, don't let go." He buried his face in Tony's neck, and dropped off to sleep.

After putting the young man in his car and cranking up the heat, he got out to talk to Natasha and Clint. "Thanks, guys." They exchanged hugs. "I think he just has to sleep it all off tonight." He shrugged, glancing back through the window at the boy sprawled across the front seats haphazardly.

Natasha nodded. "Let him sleep in tomorrow, we can all get together any time. Neither of us are going home." She looked over at Clint, who had an arm wrapped around his red-nosed Russian maven. "Just get Loki to call me. We can go out for those drinks and exchange gifts, okay?" She smiled at him sweetly.

Tony had been most surprised by Natasha's change of heart towards him. Before he and Loki got very serious, she had been suspicious and frosty towards him. But now, she was almost as kind to him as she was to Loki- well, not that nice, but kind enough nonetheless.

"Sure." He grinned. "Happy Christmas, guys." He waved, watching them smile and leave, getting into Clint's car to drive to their hotel room. Everyone in their little band of friends had decided to get a hotel instead of staying at the dorms. Without Loki and Tony's presence, it just wasn't right.

The snow was still falling, coating the ground like powdered sugar and gracing the tree boughs like dandruff. Tomorrow would bring a white Christmas, if not a peaceful one.

* * *

Loki woke up in bed alone. He stretched, feeling a cold arthritis aching in his early-morning joints. A few cracks resounded along his spine, and his hair fanned across his face as he turned over onto his back. "Anthony?" His voice sounded deep and hoarse from disuse. "Baby?" He looked around, noticing his own clothes strewn across the room, mixed with Anthony's. It was an amalgam of green, red, and black. He smirked.

"Happy Christmas, princess." The man breezed into the room, wearing red boxers- with hearts on them, mind you- and carrying a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. "For you, my love." He bowed, holding Loki's coffee out towards him- and it was his favorite mug (sure, Tony owned it, but it was _Loki's) _"Kiss?" He made a kissy face, only for Loki to push him away playfully.

"No way, I have morning breath." He grimaced, laying back in their little nest of pillows and letting the warm mug of coffee rest on his chest. "I need to brush my teeth." He didn't move. "And put on clothes. Or something." He eyed the smugly grinning engineer. "What's with you? Were you Santa's top elf, or something?"

Fun Fact #30: Ever since that one Christmas when Thor and he each broke a bone while sledding, Loki's been kind of a Grinch when it comes to the actual holiday. He loves the festivities (especially the lights, for which he has a childlike wonder) but hates it when the day comes sliding into home base.

"No." He grins and looks pointedly at Loki's pillow.

Loki groans and takes the bait, sliding one hand under his pillow like it is honestly the most tedious thing he's ever done. His fingers come back clasped around a small box wrapped in evergreen shaded paper. And yes, it makes him smile, because his fingernails are currently the exact same color. "You matched it to my nail polish?" He asks Anthony, giggling just enough to come close to toppling his coffee.

"Maybe." Stark shrugged, a pretty smile toying with his lips. "Open it!" The command came along with a new, bouncy version of his boyfriend- who's expression was one of toddler level Christmas glee. Loki was infected by his eagerness.

He tore off the paper, after setting his coffee on a safe, flat, immobile surface. Gently opening the box, he gasped.

It came flooding back.

_"You're okay now, my lovely snowflake. I've got you." __Stark's had been warm and the snow was cold and it was too many sensations and too much emotional turmoil. But Anthony had called him 'snowflake'. And everyone knows, each and every snowflake is one of a kind. His mind eased, and he fell asleep to hearing himself beg Anthony to never let him go._

Inside the box, was a silver snowflake necklace. It was delicate and shining and beautiful and Loki was about to start sobbing like a baby because it was perfect and his boyfriend was perfect and despite it all, this fucking Christmas was already perfect and it had just begun. And he practically attacks Anthony in this most heartfelt hug and kiss he can ever remember giving, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and kissing his lips between 'thank yous' and 'I love yous' until they're both laughing and Stark's hands are gripping his side and they're laying back on the bed and it's about to become something they can't recover from.

"Wait!" Anthony jumps up, "I've gotta get something." And Loki frowns, because the billionaire got him more than one gift- although they had agreed not to (and yeah, Loki cheated too. Shut up.).

While he's gone, off to god-knows-where, Loki leans over and grabs a box from under the bed- Anthony's gift. And since when did responsible, normal adults exchange gifts in bed? Anthony bounced back in about the time Loki concluded that 'responsible' and 'normal' where words that didn't really pertain to either of them. So, it was allowed.

"Open." He flopped back on the bed, gently setting another box in Loki's hand. "And yes, I broke the rules." He grinned mischievously.

"Don't try to trick a trickster, love." Loki murmured, winking and pulling the wrapping off a custom-made, green and gold lighter with an inscription,

_'For the star in my night sky' _

This time, tears did fall. And Loki did sniffle and cry and try not to do both, but god damn if he wasn't touched and more in love than he had known he could be. And yes, it was just so perfect, because it was so Anthony. "Do you not like it? Did I-" Loki cut him off with a shaky finger placed across his lips.

"It's perfect, Anthony. Just...perfect." He shook his head, wiping the tears off his face. "I'm just a crier. You know this." He grinned at the worried man. "Here, open it. Hurry." He smirked, carefully placing a box in front of Anthony.

Anthony frowned. "I actually have no idea what this is." He peered at it, trying to figure it out.

"If you don't open it, I'm going to use it to bludgeon you to death." Loki deadpanned, watching the impish grin spread across Anthony's pretty features.

"Hush, I'm going." The wrapping disappeared in seconds, leaving Anthony staring with his mouth open and Loki with a very satisfied smirk.

"You...I..." Loki was crushed before he could blink, held against a warm, strong chest, an arc reactor digging into his ribs almost painfully. "I love you so much." The arms were nearly suffocating, squeezing him so tightly all he could do was smile and hug Stark back.

Between them lay Stark's first gift. And as everything was kicked off the bed, this lay beside them as they second gift was found in bare skin and soft voices and keening moans.

_'Proof That Anthony Stark Has A Heart'._

* * *

A/N:** I'm gonna admit, this may not transfer through, but I was honestly on the brink of tears through most of this. It's actually an extremely personal chapter, and I've poured quite a bit of my own past into it. **

**Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoyed, and I hope it brought you as many happy butterfly feels as it did me. Because, OH MY GOD ITS SO HAPPY WTF. Anyways.**

**Pleaseeeee review? Please? Please?**

**CHRISTMAS IN JULY. Whoop.**

**So, Happy Christmas to all. Even if it isn't really Christmas. Give yourselves a gift. Like, a pretty shirt or a manly something (girls only understand girly gifts, I'm sorry xD). And know I'm sending you all kisses and hugs and love across the screen. **

**-Disclaimer- I'm not a creep -.- BUT I LOVE YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE.**

**Thanks for the reviews, and the favorites, and the follows, and the views.**

**You're all beautiful, ok.**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**


	27. Chapter 27- Nobody, Not Even The Rain

_A/N: (Sorry for the three updates, it's just that FFN is a major dick, and I tend to forget that)._

**The name of this chapter is Nobody, Not Even The Rain Has Such Small Hands by La Dispute. Best band ever. They get me through life. Not even joking.**

**Now, I don't know if you all have noticed, but I'm always extremely concerned that you all like each and every chapter. Ya'll are always at the forefront of my mind when I'm writing. This chapter is different. **

**This chapter is essentially filled to the brim with me. My struggles. Things I've felt or had to walk through or seen in the mirror. I have put myself in this story, these characters, pretty much poured my heart, soul, pain, anguish into these chapters. I have given myself over to it, and come out loving it, and being proud of it. And it has brought me the most amazing friend in the world, through this story.**

**I do, in retrospect, hope you glean an immense amount of enjoyment from this. It is truly my desire that you guys love this story, and see how much it means to me that I've had so much support and such amazing reviews. **

**Whoop, I'm done being sentimental.**

**Also, there's a fucking HUGE amount of music that went into this, from bands like La Dispute, Led Zepplin (Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You), Mayday Parade, Sixx: A.M., and many more.**

**WARNING: so much suicidal shit. Guys, seriously. This chapter is rife with angst, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, drinking, worthlessness, just...I pulled out all the stops, okay? Take this into account before reading. I don't want anyone hurt, or triggered by this. I really, really want you to stop reading right here if you might be triggered.**

**I LOVE YOU ALL, and I'm so sorry for the extra time I took on this (it was a bitch, ugh).**

_"We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire." ~ George Sand_

* * *

_Tony wasn't really sure where he was, or why he was here, or why his mouth tasted like really filthy fur. His head was throbbing and his skin was covered in a night-long, sticky sheen of sweat. Everything was hot and hazy and he couldn't think right just yet. The room he was in was dark with the only bit of light coming from under the door. Music was beating against his eardrums like a jackhammer and sending little electric jolts of pain through his brain and eyes and making his blood feel a tiny bit thicker than cake batter while it pulsed achingly and slow throughout his entire body._

_Groaning, he sat up slowly, ignoring the flashes of pain that came up red in his eyes. "Where the fuck am I?" A hand to his head, feeling the scab of a cut he didn't remember getting. His hair was a bird's nest of tangles and that weird feeling that comes from not showering for a few days._

_What the fuck had happened?_

_And where was Loki?_

_A hand in his pocket revealed a phone- dead. He sighed. Well, he wasn't so out of practice that he couldn't get himself home. Nevertheless, something inside him said that the last thing he wanted was to go back...to go back where he had ruined everything. Back to that home where, six years ago, he had begun this trek downward that had brought him here. Because one mistake can change your life forever, it can kill you and leave you a corpse, walking, breathing, eating, existing- but never really living. And sure, there had been things that brought back embers of life- things like Loki and science and even alcohol, on occasion- but Tony knew that he had brought this on himself when he swallowed those pills. He had woken up in that hospital a different man, a man who had chosen to destroy himself, and take the rest of the world with him._

_Maybe he had been taking the steps towards this end for a lot longer than he had ever realized._

_Tony had always known he would die young. He just hadn't realized it would be this young. And he hadn't realized how painful death could be._

* * *

**_72 Hours Earlier_**

* * *

Loki grinned, the lights spiraling around them. They played over Natasha's skin prettily, making her seem mystical and mysterious. No wonder Clint had fallen so hard for her. "See, I thought the whole disco thing would be cool. I mean, it's in American movies all the time. You people are obsessed." She shook her head, her Russian accent coloring her voice strongly.

"It's perfect, Natasha. Every one is going to love it, especially Anthony. You know how he is about parties." His smile grew. Tomorrow was his boyfriend's birthday. And tonight, in celebration, Loki and Natasha were throwing him the birthday party of the century.

Since Loki and Anthony had gotten serious, Loki had noticed a sincere absence of Stark's signature partying lifestyle. And he knew, _knew,_ his boyfriend missed it. But, the engineer had made a genuine attempt to please Loki and change for him- not that Loki had ever requested it, although, god knows he had wished for it- and Loki wanted him to know he appreciated it. So, there would be alcohol, there would be loud music (of the AC/DC type) and there would be flashing lights worthy of seizures.

"Oh, over here is the cake. They actually got the name right and everything." She snickered, remembering Loki's story about Thor's attempt to get Loki a birthday cake- the name on the cake had been 'Lucy Owenson'.

"Very funny, my dear." He rolled his eyes and tugged on her ponytail gently- which was rewarded with a Natasha Romanoff level glare. "Oh, wow." He stared at the cake with an awed smile.

The cake was a sugary depiction of Anthony's heart and soul- his worktable at the lab (Loki had drawn a sketch for the cake's icing design). It was slate grey on top with chemical vials drawn around the scrawling "Happy Birthday, Anthony!" that looked suspiciously like Loki's spidery handwriting. He grinned, there was no doubt Anthony would recognize that- although Loki had yet to reveal his artistic bent to the overly curious man he loved.

"I think it's cute." She shrugged, gazing down at it with him.

"Because it is." He smirked at her. "Thank you for helping me with this, darling." He sighed, running a hand back through his kinky black hair. "I'm worried."

She looked up at him, hooking her arm through his and pulling him towards the library- their usual haunt. "I know. I've known since Christmas that something was off with you two." She threaded their fingers together and pulled them down a serene, silent, book-decorated aisle. It was Loki's temple.

Fun Fact #30: Ever since Loki can remember, the library has been a safe place- like a church. He had come to this 'church' when he was hurt, sad, happy, crying, broken, abused, torn apart. When he needed quiet, when he needed asylum, when he needed an escape. And it had forever been the one place no one could truly hurt him. For here, everything was happy- in the end. At the end of the day, whatever book you read, will have a good ending. The protagonist will come out- bleeding, yes, but alive. The protagonist will fall in love and get the girl- even if it's not the one you were rooting for. They will come out happy, and the world will end up balanced once more. Loki wanted a storybook ending.

Loki nodded absently. "He's been different recently. Y'know, like he was before...when we weren't together. Not partying or going crazy, but just, withdrawn. I try to give him space because I know he tends to be a lone wolf." He shrugged. "It's just...his eyes. They...he's on Adderall all the time again. And drinking, again." He bit his lip. "Why is he relapsing? I thought he was getting better and I was helping him. Maybe I'm just hurting him. Making things worse." Tears started behind his eyes, but he successfully blinked them away as he looked down at an archaic book cover. The thing had to be a hundred years old- or at least, older than Loki.

"You know, Loki, you can ask him. You guys have been in a relationship of some sort- at least- for years, you have the right to be worried and concerned and to ask questions when he starts acting out. He has some responsibility to your relationship." She frowned. "Everything isn't your fault, lovey." She hugged him close, her arms wrapping around his midsection tightly. Adorably, she only came to the middle of his chest.

He knew she was right. And he knew that he had always had a problem with keeping the right balance and boundaries in relationships. Perhaps he was wired wrong, or perhaps it came from never having a healthy relationship- but he couldn't find the happy medium, the right give/take ratio when it came to love. Any kind of love. It had been that way with he and Thor, as well. Either he or Thor always gave more than they got in return. And he had expected just that with Anthony, he would give and give and give until he had no more. And then they would demolish everything. The bond between their hearts would be ruined.

He hadn't expected them to last.

But somehow they had. Somehow they had mapped out the right areas of each other, side-stepping landmines and trip wires, scaling walls and demolishing warring factions within each other. They had found sensitive veins- those Amazon rivers filled with blood- and explored the mind- with all it's nations and states of thought and memory- and traveled from limb to limb- those perilous bridges that could take you anywhere- until finally, they found the heart- that great, beating core of life and reason and pure lack of judgment and logic. Within each other, in these rivers and earth-bound mountains and valleys inside each other, they had found hope. Hope, that magnificently delusional piece of our psyche that makes us believe in the unbelievable, that makes us have faith in lies and mirages and illusions.

And they had built their relationship on that illusion. That trick of the eyes- or was it the heart, that fool?

"Oh, my dear, you could not be more wrong." And that was the truth of it.

Everything was Loki's fault.

It always had been.

It forever would be.

* * *

Tony paced in the lab, surrounded by all the immobile, soulless things he had spent his life on. Suddenly, they didn't seem so important. One tanned, chemically burned, calloused fingertip ran around the stainless steel edge of the arc reactor. The blue light illuminated the room brightly. The only other light in the room was the glowing orange at the end of his cigarette. It was so quiet, he could hear the electrical buzz of his machines. In this soul-pervading pitch, Tony could almost feel the palladium clogging his veins.

Tomorrow was his birthday. He'd be twenty-one years old. It had been a short life, filled to the brim with pain and personal torment and destruction. The one good thing in his life was Loki. Loki Laufeyson, the boy he loved so much he was willing to sacrifice his last few days of happiness for him. And such a notion was unheard of in the world of Tony Stark. The only happiness that truly mattered to the young industrial prince, was his own.

So, the question remained, _'Why?_

_Why am I saving him?'_

The resounding answer ringing in his brain, was, _'Because you love him, you ignoramous.'_ The voice sounded suspiciously like one saturnine, raven-haired teenager. It brought a comforting smile to his worry-hardened face.

Slowly- and almost of their own accord- Tony's fingers tightened around the arc reactor. Slide a few degrees clockwise, tug a little, and it would come right out of his chest. Yank a few wires loose of their anchoring within his chest cavity, and it'd be just a few more painful minutes. Then he would be free.

He wouldn't have to hide all these dirty secrets roiling inside him.

The pain would be gone- and it was getting increasingly intolerable.

And Loki would be set free.

They'd both be free. Tony thought freedom an underrated, abused concept. It was necessary, and both he and Loki had been trapped for far too long.

So, Tony closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on the device, turning it till he heard a familiar click.

_Love-bitten, ruby lips._

Tug till air whooshed into the hole between his ribs.

_Inkspun hair dripping like black gold._

_Emerald irises so unfathomable and liquid that they rivaled the seas, filled the backdrop of his eyelids._

Tony took a deep breath and-

"Anthony?" Loki's voice. Loki was back. Loki, his _princess._

Quickly replacing the device into its rightful repose within his chest- above his still beating heart, which was admittedly flustered by his roller coaster emotions- he stood and jogged up the stairs to the entrance of the mansion.

Loki was wet, dripping on the hardwood floor and looking very much like a half-drowned kitten. Tony wanted nothing more than to dry him off and wrap him in a blanket and give him some warm milk. The expression of misery on Loki's face was possibly the most melodramatic thing Tony had ever seen. He grinned sympathetically.

"Did you go swimming?" He teased, watching Loki spitefully kick off squishy, water-logged boots and trudge toward the bedroom, leaving behind a crumb trail of raindrops in his wake. Tony followed like the lost puppy he tended to be.

"Essentially. It's flooding like crazy. If everything starts to freeze, we're screwed." The irascible tone in his soaked boyfriend's voice was cute. Loki was never more precious than when he was being a slightly bitchy diva. "I'm wet, Stark." He looked at Tony with an expression of disgust and horror, and for Loki to be any more feline, he'd have to sprout kitten ears and a tail.

"You dry off and I'll make you some hot chocolate, baby. Okay?" He tugged the edges of his fingers through rain-heavy curls.

Loki caught his hand and pressed a raindrop-colored kiss to his palm. "Whatever would I do without you?" He was teasing and being coy, but the words tugged hard on Tony's heart.

The mercurial teen let go to start wrestling with the clothes clinging to his thin frame, and Tony wandered off to make hot chocolate- complete with an unnecessary amount of whip cream for Loki.

Suddenly, and all too clearly, Tony realized that he wasn't sparing Loki from heartbreak or pain. He was just taking himself out of the equation. He wouldn't have to be there to see Loki's suffering, his pain, his tears.

Tony was saving himself- in the name of sparing Loki.

The realization put a bad taste in his mouth, labeled him as a coward, and intensified the pain where his heart still beat.

He wanted to rip out that traitorous organ and stomp on it.

* * *

Obadiah Stane looked out the window of Howard Stark's office, which he had taken over in the wake of the billionaire mogul's death. A cigar seeped smoke, coloring the atmosphere a dusky, musty grey. It filled his nose, scenting the office with cigar and old men and business- just as it had before the senior Stark's death. Nothing much had really changed. Stane had been running the company for almost a year before Howard's death, for the man had been crippled by guilt for allowing his son to get abducted and nearly killed. It seemed ironic, considering their physically and mentally abusive relationship.

Stane had always wondered what would happen when Howard finally croaked. Would the world stop turning? Would everything- would society- crumble without his charismatic, powerful presence to lead and reign over the industrial world? And what of Stark Industries? Would it go downhill without the elder Stark's genius and brilliant business tyranny- because Howard was always a tyrant, with an iron fist and a sharp tongue. Fortunately, all of Stane's fears were unnecessary. Tony stepped into his old man's shoes flawlessly, picking up the crown and taking the reins as if he had been running a multi-billion dollar company since birth. It had impressed Stane, the coldness with which he had handled his father's death and the ease with which he took on the company.

All too clearly, Stane remembered walking into the fourteen year old boy's room, and seeing the brown haired genius sprawled across the floor. Back then, he had found Tony special, he had even loved him like an uncle might love his nephew. The panic that had gripped him in a vise still came back to him when he thought of that night, seeing the young heir taken away in an ambulance, while he and his father looked on. But Howard hadn't gone to the hospital. He had instead, gotten a bottle of Jack and nearly drank himself into the same predicament as his son.

How classical. How expected. For a Stark never faces their deepest fears, not even within themselves. They lie and run and hide in their bottles and their affairs and their brilliance. People like Stane didn't have such comfort or luxuries. No, people like Stane had to watch over such loose canons, to make sure they didn't take the whole of society down with them. To make sure they didn't poison their brilliance with alcohol and drugs. To make sure there was someone their to resucitate them when they slit their wrists or swallowed a bottle of pills. That was Stane's role. And he had been in such a role for too long.

It was his time, now. And some pathetic brat who couldn't keep his nose clean and be a respectable, decent human being was not going to stand in his way. Not any longer. Stane had taken down one Stark monarch.

How easy it was going to be to taken down the other.

If Stane had to watch the world burn, he would be holding the torch.

* * *

Loki smoked in the car, watching the filthy snow crowd the street as they sped towards the campus. The smoke flooded the air in front of him before dissipating and spreading through the overpowering oxygen surrounding it. Sometimes, Loki felt like smoke, crowded by so much oxygen that it made him lessen until he disappeared- never to be seen again. Sometimes, he felt like his personality was so overtaken by that of the people around him, that his own ceased to exist. Sometimes, Loki felt invisible, like a social chameleon.

And considering the way the man beside him was silent and withdrawn, Loki soon would be too. Or, he could hope for that. He could hope for the apathy and numbness that had taken over his boyfriend in the past few hours. They had barely spoken since Loki got back. And Loki hated it. He hated the way he was cut off from his best friend and only love. He hated seeing him muddle and struggle through whatever inner pain was plaguing him- and Loki completely incapable of lessening the burden that weighed those young, broad shoulders down.

He wondered, idly, what Anthony thought when he saw him. Did he see a blessing, or a burden? Did he see happy moments, or cruel memories? Was Loki a cure, or a curse to the engineer? Was he like that device in his chest, that gleamed dimly through the thin fabric of his button-up, collared shirt? Was he saving Anthony's heart? Or was he the shrapnel in that deceitfully strong-appearing chest, just waiting to rip through the fragile walls of that beating, pulsating organ?

Letting the smoke fill his lungs, temporarily overwhelming that bully named Oxygen, he remembered the first time he had spoken to Anthony Stark.

_Loki snarled down at his book, hating how the protagonist was portrayed as a power-greedy, jealous bitch- when in actuality he was just proving a point. He was as strong as the antagonist (which would win in the end, no doubt), and he wasn't taking anymore bullying. No one told this protagonist what to did, he did what he wanted. Authors and their foolish adoration for the 'good guy' with the morals and the hot babe on their arm. It irritated Loki to no end._

_A shadow fell over his book, shading him from the relentless beating of the sun. He looked up into liquid brown eyes that were wide and hidden by a huge iris. The half-grin that beamed down at him was cocky and tanned by years under the same sun that watched them interact now. The brown hair shoved thoughtlessly off a creased forehead was the color of mud, kinky and curly. Loki was awed._

_"Hiya, handsome." A wink was sent his way, and Loki felt his eyebrows and mouth turn down in an expression of disdain. "Whatcha reading?" This new, unintroduced creature- as irritating as he was beautiful- flopped on the grass beside him. _

_His book was snatched out of his hands, making him emit a growl from deep in his throat and pull his lips back in a snarl. "I was reading that, you know." His voice was deep and threatening because if this person- if he could be called such a thing because Loki was beginning to think he was Lucifer's twin brother or something- lost his place in that book, Loki would scratch his eyes out._

_"Ah, I know this one. Pretty good, actually. I read it like three hundred years ago." The book was thrown on the grass a few feet away and suddenly, brown eyes filled his vision. "You're really pretty, y'know. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes look like the ocean? Like...Destin Beach, in Florida. My dad took me there once. Your eyes are the exact color of those waters." He smiled softly, making Loki's heart stutter like a nervous school girl. "Funny, they were so much clearer than your eyes." _

_Loki almost choked. Really, he hadn't been...'attracted' to someone in almost a year. The things that scarred his mind from his last relationship were too hard to ignore, to hard to forget. Forgive he never would, but forget he must._

_"My eyes are fine, thank you." He shoved the man back gently. _

_The boy laughed. "Hey, don't get your panties in a wad, princess. It was a compliment." The beautiful creature stood to his feet a little unsteadily. Loki squinted up at him- was he high? "My name's Tony Stark, and I pretty much own the fucking world. You need anything, you let me know, gorgeous." He winked, making Loki scowl once again- did this guy make a fucking living by making Loki turn into a pissy bitch?- and walked off._

_His mind was spinning. Did Tony Stark just call him gorgeous? And he was **not** a princess. _

Loki smiled softly at the memory. The only time reminiscing ever brought a smile to his face was when it involved Anthony Stark. The cigarette smoke seeped out of his nose, flowing out in front of him and clouding his view of the windshield.

"You look like some sort of actor from the 40s." Anthony's voice almost made him jump out of his skin. He had been stuck back in a world where every word from the inventor's mouth had been slightly slurred and spoken in a light, teasing tone. But the young man beside him- nearly two years older- sounded darker, deeper, more mature. Loki wasn't sure it was a good thing.

"Is that a compliment?" He smirked, catching brown eyes gazing at him as they idled at a red light. Snow was starting to fall with the rain around them, making the windshield wipers work harder under the burden.

"Mmm. My pulse thinks so." He winked, but it wasn't the same. Something had changed in those past two years, subtly. So subtly, so subversive that Loki didn't notice.

Was it Loki? Had he changed Anthony? Surely, he wasn't the Oxygen taking over innocent smoke and making it disappear in his sweet inventor? The thought repulsed him. He had never wanted to change Anthony, not even his addictive personality or his womanizing ways- although both had had the ability to end their shaky relationship.

"Have-" Loki started, only to break off when Anthony hit a patch of black ice and fishtailed.

Terror clutched his heart. His eyes opened wide and watched as the car started to spin. In his peripheral vision, he saw Anthony's scarred hands scrambling across the wheel to manhandle the car back into submission. Screeching tires sounded in his ears as the car whirled and the cars near by desperately tried to get out of the way.

As suddenly as it began, it all came to a squealing stop. Loki was thrown forward against his seatbelt as the car slammed into the sidewalk and stopped against the hard snow. Anthony grunted beside him, having hit the steering wheel. But, before he could even ask if the young man was okay, long fingers were pushing him back and quickly unbuckling him. "Come on, get out."

He noticed he was blocked by a wall of snow, on his side. Anthony helped him crawl across the seats and climb out of the car. They were sitting on the icy lawn/sidewalk of the campus. "Holy shit." His heart was still sprinting in his chest, and he felt a little whoozy from the adrenaline.

Anthony's warm arm wrapped around his waist, clutching his side and practically supporting his weight. "Are you okay?" Familiar fingers wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to face brown eyes and a worried frown. "It happened so suddenly, I-I'm so sorry." Claws dug into his shoulders.

"No, I'm fine." He shook his head, still feeling light-headed and shocked. It was confusing, to go from spinning uncontrollably with one's life flashing before one's eyes, to standing in a snow and ice-covered grass lawn with one's boyfriend looking at you like you'd grown two heads.

"You're bleeding, Loki." Anthony brushed his forehead, and came back covered in blood.

He laughed. "That's nothing. I've caused more blood myself." He shrugged. "Besides, it'll stop soon from the cold. Let's go inside." He threaded their fingers together, pulling him towards the dorms.

"Are you sure? I think you need to go to a hospital, Lo." Anthony tugged him to a stop outside the door. Within, were a plethora of college students, just waiting for Anthony to cross the thresh-hold.

He sighed, pulling Anthony closer and pushing his fingers up into unruly, muddy curls. "I'm positive. No broken bones, skulls intact, skeletons attached. We're fine. We got lucky. Now, lets ride the adrenaline and be happy, okay?" And yeah, when had Loki become a hippie? Be happy? Happy? Did such a word exist in his vocabulary?

A smile spread across Anthony's weary face. "Okay. Although, we might need to get you checked for a concussion if you keep up with this 'be happy' bullshit." He teased, nudging Loki's ribs playfully.

The door opened and Anthony stepped through. A resounding "Surprise!" echoed across the campus as a grin spread widely across that warm, tanned face and lights exploded prettily in big, brown puppy dog eyes.

He spun, looking at Loki with suspicion. "You...you sneaky little fucker." He was caught in warm arms and spun around as the crowd laughed. "I love you." Was whispered in his ear, and warmth sneaked through his veins insidiously.

Maybe everything could be okay, in the end.

"I love you too." He whispered.

* * *

Tony laughed at Clint, who was smirking, sitting up on the bar and shooting arrows at a bull's eye across the room. people were betting left and right that he couldn't hit this or that, while Loki, Tony, and Natasha (the select few who had known of his talent before tonight) watched in wise amusement. Loki let the archer pull him close- hell, Clint was drunker than even Tony, at this point- and show him how to hold the bow. Letting loose the string he had pulled back, the arrow went flying into the target, less than an inch from the bull's eye.

Natasha, Steve, Clint, Thor and his girlfriend all let out a cheer and a few whistles, while Tony pulled his skinny boyfriend in for a sloppy kiss. Loki scowled at him playfully. "You smell so good." He murmured into the raven hair, holding Loki to his chest. He felt the resounding chuckle come through the other's chest. "I don't ever want to smell anything else."

_But you're dying, Tony. You can't keep him any more. You gotta let go._ What was that saying? If you love something, set it free? He scowled, burying his face in Loki's fluffy, plush curls, allowing the alcohol and the intoxicating smell of everything Loki consume his senses and cloud his brain. The bony teenager was laughing, hugging Tony's arms around his chest and leaning back against him comfortably.

Tony wanted to burn every second of this moment into his psyche, so he could never forget it. So he would remember it, even in death. Whatever awaited him, he wanted to carry this memory with him to the 'other side'. Because if anything was holy or ethereal or to be revered, it was Loki. Loki was his god, his religion, his heaven or nirvana or paradise. It was all Loki, and if anything on this earth or in the otherworlds he didn't understand or know of, Loki deserved his veneration.

He twisted curls around his fingers, feeling the rough silk slip and slide between the scars and old burns that marred his digits. Another long gulp of whiskey, and ever-familiar feel of liquid fire burning down his throat. It sparked against his vocal chords. It charred as it ran down him, into his stomach, where it roiled uneasily. The nerves in Tony's body all felt on edge, jumpy, unsettled. Because he knew, he knew he had to do it soon. If he didn't, all his well-laid plans would be ruined, demolished by his inability to break his own heart and hurt the one person on earth he truly loved.

"How's it feel to finally be legal, Tony?" Clint teased, earning him a disapproving glare from Steve. "Does the whiskey taste any different?" The smile on his face eased Tony's nerves a little.

"It tastes like freedom!" He raised a glass to a cheer from the small crowd in the room.

It was a lie. All Tony felt was caged and suffocated. He was a dead man walking, after all.

* * *

Loki lay on the bar. Tony grinned down at him, watching one saturnine eyebrow raise. "This is a one-time thing, and only because it's your birthday." By this time, their both a level above drunk that no one else in the room has attained.

It's pretty much the after-party, just Tony's closest friends plus Natasha. Pepper was sulking in a corner, but now she was laughing along with the rest of them. "I promise, you'll love it." Loki rolled his eyes and squirmed.

"Just hurry up and get it over with." His words slurred a little, the only obvious indicator that he was drunk enough to fall flat on his face- had he been Tony Stark, anyways.

Doing a jello shot off Loki Laufeyson's stomach was probably going to be the highlight of Tony's life. The cool feel of it sliding down his throat as he pressed his lips to Loki's, letting the boy sit up but never out of his arms, out of his sight. It was the last little bit of paradise before everything fell to pieces around his ankles. Everything was crumbling, everything was going to be over too soon. And he could feel it, the rumblings of change and heartache. The pangs in his chest from the palladium and failing arc reactor were almost intolerable, but he kept a smile on his face...for Loki.

Everything was for Loki. As much as he may lump Pepper and Steve and Hawkeye in with Loki, that he was saving them and trying to make everything easier for them once he was gone- it wasn't true. Tony had never cared before, when he was risking his life every night and day, taking far more Adderall than he had needed, attempting to drink himself to blood poisoning more than a few times, and driving drunk. He had never cared. He had only given a shit when Loki came into his life.

Tony thought it funny that the best thing in one's life, could end up being the most heartbreaking.

"Loki...I love you." He murmured, nuzzling Loki's neck as they stood side-by-side, fingers intertwined, Loki leaning against him sleepily.

"Mmm. I love you too, birthday boy." He smiled at Tony, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him sleepily. "You seemed so happy." His words seemed to audibly tilt, slurring more the drowsier and drunker he got. "I love seeing you happy. I missed it, baby." Their mouths weren't a centimeter apart, their eyes so deep in each other they might as well have delved into each other's souls.

This was a Loki he had fallen in love with a thousand times over. The Loki that was so drunk off his ass that there was no reticent filter any longer. He was just himself, the Loki that hid behind reservation and eloquence and that mercurial misanthropy that had almost made the teenager a recluse. That was the Loki that Tony had always loved the most. That was the Loki he had fallen in love with first, and that was the Loki he wanted to remember the longest.

"We can't do this any longer, Lo." His voice was cracking, he could hear it through the blood roaring in his ears. Loki frowned, his eyebrows pushing low over his forest-colored eyes. "We always knew it had to come to an end. And...it is. Now." There was a lump forming in his throat that would soon prevent all speech unless it was accompanied by a volley of tears that he hadn't seen since he was fourteen and swallowing a bottle of pills. Perhaps suicide comes in a variety of different ways. Perhaps this was his second attempt. Perhaps this time...he wouldn't fail. No one would come in and save him, there was no grown-up to scoop him off the floor- dazed and half unconscious- and call an ambulance and be the father he had never had. This time, no one was going to stop him. This time, no one really could.

Loki's eyes were disbelieving. "What- I don't understand. You seemed so happy." He pulled back, severing the chords that had performed a symphony for Loki in his chest. "I thought...Is it someone else?" He shook his head, obviously trying to process it all. Natasha was starting to notice that something was wrong.

"Loki, it's over. It would never have worked-" He started, reaching towards Loki.

"It was working, Stark! What the fuck are you talking about? It was working." He gripped his t-shirt, they were nose-to-nose and Loki's eyes were glistening. One tear was trekking down a deathly white cheek. "You can't just say you love someone and pull this shit and expect that it's going to be okay. You can't tell someone you love them and then just say it's over! That's not how it goes! You don't give someone your heart and then all of a sudden, decide you want it back." He laughed, pulling back. And Tony could see that same unhinged expression that had been written all over his face when he dealt with Odin that last time- the time that had nearly broken them both. Physically and mentally. "I guess that's where I'm wrong, huh? You never did give me your heart. I was just the foolish fucker who gave away mine to the womanizing asshole with a bottomless bank account and the arrogance to think he can treat me like a toy." He shoved Tony away fully, tears pouring down his face. "I'm not a toy, Stark." He sniffed, running the back of his hand across his face- looking so much like a small child that Tony just wanted to hug him and say he was sorry and pretend like it would be okay for the next week that he might have left. But that wouldn't be fair, to either of them. This had to be done. He was doing the right thing- or so he told himself. "I'm not." His voice broke, and the tears fell, and the hearts broke.

"I know, Loki. I'm so sorry. You'll understand. I swear, you'll understand in just a few days, or a week. Just...give it time." He struggled to remember that phrase about time. If he could just remember, Loki might understand. Maybe he'd stop crying.

"Time does not heal something like this! Are you kidding me! Stark, I gave you everything." He was yelling and Tony was crying like a baby- even though he'd been raised to never cry in public- and the world was starting to disintegrate around them. "I gave you my heart and soul and my...body." He shrugged. "Does that mean nothing now? Was it all just a stupid lie? Was it a game to you? Or are you like every other man in my life- do you think I am nothing but something to beat up and break? Am I just a doll you can abuse?" The pain etched across Loki's face in the subtle white ink of his skin broke Tony's heart into the smallest of pieces, which would never be put back together. Soon, shrapnel would pierce through that heart and end its misery.

"Your dad was right, Loki. You're nothing. To me, or anyone else." And the tears are choking him now, making him sound strangled and like his throat had been ripped by long claws- like Loki's- and everything felt as raw as it must've been because he's never felt this torn wide open. It felt like the whole world- or maybe it was just Loki's piercing green eyes- was looking at him, and his fucked-up soul, and his cowardly heart that wasn't even a heart anymore. It was a piece of chewed up, stomped upon, stitched together and torn apart meat. It barely pumped anymore.

He couldn't wait for it to be shredded by little pieces of metal, because when Loki looked at him like that- so terribly young and terrified and broken- he didn't want to live any longer.

"Oh." It was a simple word. Spoken in a simple, impregnable tone. And it seemed to shake the earth.

Loki threw on his jacket, and Tony could do nothing but stare. This is what he had wanted. This is what needed to be done. He was doing the right thing. That's what he repeated over and over to himself, desperately, as Loki disappeared out the door- with Natasha running after him and everyone staring at him.

With a feral, broken growl, Tony swept every last glass off the bar and onto the floor. "Fuck!"

If he didn't get angry, he'd die right where he stood from heartbreak.

* * *

Loki was running, running through snow and slipping across the icy patches that littered the sidewalk and lawn of the campus. He knew where he was running, but it didn't register until he was taking the stairs two-at-a-time and wheezing so hard his broken ribs were hurting like the devil. The pain was welcome, so welcome.

Banging on Thor's door at 3 a.m. was not where he had seen his life heading a few short hours ago. Sure, he had known something was off about his boyfriend- but he had not been expecting this. This was life-altering and heartbreaking and so many emotions that he couldn't take the time to comprehend. Not right now. And when a bleary-eyed Thor opened the door, Loki collapsed under the pressure of everything bearing down on him. Natasha skidded up to them. Seeing Loki in Thor's arms, she wrapped her arms around him as well. He was enveloped in warmth, the love of a brother and a best friend- and yet it didn't come close to comparing to the embrace he should've been wrapped in, at home, in bed, with his lover.

After a moment, he stood straight, looking up at Thor with swimming eyes. He felt like a noodle, boneless and weak and exhausted. He was spent. "Can I stay here tonight? My...My dorm key is at...his place." He couldn't even say his name. How could he speak what was branded so clearly on his heart? Couldn't they see it? Couldn't they see the effect this irritating, flawed, damaged, broken, genius young man had had on him? And his heart? And the very strands of his soul? Couldn't anyone see how this was already tearing him apart?

It had been ten minutes, and Loki feels like his been through the Valley of Death, and was being dragged through hell by his toenails. He's pretty sure he looks like it too, but who does he have to impress now?

"Of course, sweetheart." And suddenly, Thor's become this great big teddy bear that uses pet names like 'sweetheart' and he ushers him inside, calling him 'honey' and 'baby' and 'darling'- keep in mind, Loki's never heard these words come out of his big brother's mouth- and giving him a big t-shirt he's only seen the man in a thousand times. He tells Loki that he can have his room, and goes out, Natasha hot on his heels after pressing a slightly dazed kiss to Loki's cheek.

Loki stands there for a good five minutes, in the middle of the room, and just stares at the closed doors. He's not sure if it's really hit him yet- he's not sure he wants it too. But he does know one thing. He knows what he must do to get through this. He knows it wont be pretty- because what in Loki's life ever is?- and he knows it's going to be the most painful process of his life.

The plans are laid out in his head like a blueprint. Funny, how everything kicks into hyperdrive when we feel like just processing a few emotions might be too much to handle. Funny how we suddenly know how to handle everything logically, even if something like love or heartache is too much to comprehend. Funny, how Loki knows he's been through hell- he just can't feel it yet.

And isn't it funny, how none of this is even remotely funny- yet he wants to laugh till his stomach hurts?

Fun Fact #32: This is Loki at his lowest point. This is Loki after realizing that good people hurt good people. That the villain isn't always the bad guy. That sometimes, the hero fucks up too. That sometimes, moral just doesn't apply. That sometimes, the heart is the true villain, the true bad guy. And the bare bones truth of it all is, nothing makes sense. Everyone lies. And everyone will break your heart.

Now, he merely had to cope with it.

And there's only one way Loki copes with tragedy- even on a merely emotional scale.

A blade.

* * *

There's music blaring, and he doesn't know where he is. But quiet honestly, he's pretty sure he doesn't even care at this point. Only a few more days. He can tell because now even alcohol doesn't numb the pain or make him forget. He can't remember how long it's been since Loki disappeared out of the rest of his very short lifespan. He doesn't want to either.

Tony just wants to go quietly. So he lays down and prays to whatever god there is, that they'll take him now.

* * *

Loki gripped the counter tightly, watching the blood run in crimson rivulets down his pallid skin. Cuts criss-crossed, oozing and screaming pain. His knuckles were bone-white, like claws as they dug into the granite. The razor was a shiny, carmine-stained silver. It gleamed in the haze of the tears finally racing into his eye-sockets, making his vision go out of focus. It was like drowning. Incapable of drawing a breath without a harsh sob escaping his red, chapped lips and waking his big, oblivious brother in the adjoining room.

His nails bent under the strain of his grasp. The creaked and scratched as he held to the bathroom counter for dear life. Choking. He was choking on his own tears, drowning in his own blood, asphyxiating in his own sorrow. His demons were flaying his flesh from the inside-out. And weren't they always right there when he needed them? Just waiting for his life to decay and implode, so that they could make a comeback. And what a comeback they had made, from the sight of his red, irritated, blood, ripped arms.

Sucking in a breath, he stood straight, looking into red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

"You will get through this, if you die trying."

* * *

Tony wasn't really sure where he was, or why he was here, or why his mouth tasted like really filthy fur. His head was throbbing and his skin was covered in a night-long, sticky sheen of sweat. Everything was hot and hazy and he couldn't think right just yet. The room he was in was dark with the only bit of light coming from under the door. Music was beating against his eardrums like a jackhammer and sending little electric jolts of pain through his brain and eyes and making his blood feel a tiny bit thicker than cake batter while it pulsed achingly and slow throughout his entire body.

Groaning, he sat up slowly, ignoring the flashes of pain that came up red in his eyes. "Where the fuck am I?" A hand to his head, feeling the scab of a cut he didn't remember getting. His hair was a bird's nest of tangles and that weird feeling that comes from not showering for a few days.

What the fuck had happened?

And where was Loki?

A hand in his pocket revealed a phone- dead. He sighed. Well, he wasn't so out of practice that he couldn't get himself home. Nevertheless, something inside him said that the last thing he wanted was to go back...to go back where he had ruined everything. Back to that home where, six years ago, he had begun this trek downward that had brought him here. Because one mistake can change your life forever, it can kill you and leave you a corpse, walking, breathing, eating, existing- but never really living. And sure, there had been things that brought back embers of life- things like Loki and science and even alcohol, on occasion- but Tony knew that he had brought this on himself when he swallowed those pills. He had woken up in that hospital a different man, a man who had chosen to destroy himself, and take the rest of the world with him.

Maybe he had been taking the steps towards this end for a lot longer than he had ever realized.

Tony had always known he would die young. He just hadn't realized it would be this young. And he hadn't realized how painful death could be.

* * *

A/N: **-sits patiently and awaits the inevitable lynch mob-. I'm sorry. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person. **

**Please review. This is the last chapter- shhhhhh, don't kill me yet. There is an epilogue, though. And then, the end. Of this part. I don't know. I'm probably going to turn this into a series because I'm fucking sentimental and I've become super-duper attached to these beautiful fuckers. AND THEY NEED HAPPINESS. **

**So, review, babies. Tell me what you think. Seriously.**

**AND AGAIN, I apologize for taking so long with this. It took me like...six tries to write this. Because, it's a bitch and it made me really sad (like i wasn't sad already?) and life's a bitch, ya know the drill. AND IT'S THE LAST "CHAPTER" AND OMF I MIGHT CRY.**

**I LOVE YOU ALL.**

**I hope you had tissues.**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**

**p.s. I know a lot of you have mentioned being able to really relate with these characters. Considering the massive amount of emotional shit I have put these guys through, that's really made me think. So, I decided to start an email (Yes, I know this site has private messaging, shush) for people to email me to vent, to talk, to just have someone who's not involved in whatever is going on to just be there, whatever you need. It's trickstergod_ofasgard yahoo . Yep, made it in Loki's name and everything. Also, you can just request that I not answer, if you just need to vent. To get it all out to someone who will keep everything completely between you and I. It will be completely private. I just want you all to know that there's somewhere safe, someone you can talk to no matter what's going on.**

**I really love you guys, okay? Don't suffer alone.**


	28. Epilogue- Counting Stars

A/N: **This is the epilogue, lovelies. It's named Counting Stars (same as chapter 1) a song by Sugarcult. **

**No _real_ warnings, really. Shocker, I know. Well, there is some mention of suicidal thoughts...but, I mean, don't you kind of expect it after that last chapter?**

**And, um, review? Please?**

**Disclaimer (for the last time, oh my god D,: ) - I don't own the beautiful people in this fanfiction, even if I somewhat tweaked their personalities and the events of their lives and made them fall into a homosexual romance that was TOTALLY apparent in the movies. Stan Lee, let me love you.**

**~Enjoy, babes~**

* * *

Tony had finally stopped partying enough to come home and shower- three days wearing the same clothes and he wasn't smelling so...fresh anymore. The warm water had felt good, relaxing a bit of the tension between his shoulder blades. It had also reminded him of the silky feeling of Loki's wet skin, the way his eyelashes sparkled with liquid diamonds, how his smile looked with man-made raindrops resting on them.

Tony's fist still hurt from punching the wall.

His eyes were still ringed with red from the sobs that had exploded in his chest.

And he was more than willing to die, when he didn't have the only thing left worth living for.

Now, all he had to do was wait. And we all know how good Tony is at patience. Of course, he could always speed it up. But that would leave things unclear. Loki would never know why Tony had broken up with him- and that just wasn't acceptable. Loki had to know. He had to understand. Tony couldn't die, if he didn't know that Loki would hear and realize exactly why Tony had done the terrible things he had.

In retrospect, Tony regretted it all. He regretted not falling harder, sooner. He regretted waiting so long to take off the clothing barring them from each other. He regretted not giving up all his secrets to the pallid teenager with hair the color of death. He regretted it all, because Loki was his. Loki had been his. And now, Loki would be someone else's. In a way, he was glad. And, in a very dissimilar way, he was upset that someday, Loki would no longer be bound to him. That someday, the beautiful young man would be loved by someone else, someone kinder and sweeter and better. Someone that would eventually wipe away every trace of Tony from Loki's mind.

Maybe that's what was making everything start to end faster.

Maybe that's what caused the pain in his chest.

Maybe that's why Tony wanted to rip the arc reactor out of his chest, and end it right now.

* * *

He was back at his dorm. In bed. Sniffling and trying to stop the tears by pretty much not breathing more than he absolutely had to and blinking about three billion times a second- it wasn't working. And everything hurt. Everything. His formerly burnt arm- which felt just like it did the day he'd woken up in the hospital and found out, oh yeah, he's an orphan. His cut up arm- which is bandaged and looks like hell. And his heart- the most wounded of all.

Trembling fingers ran down that old burn, feeling the strange texture of the newer, scarred skin. It felt foreign, alien, like it didn't belong on him. He remembered how Anthony had come to the hospital, looking shy and embarrassed and completely taken with him. It had shot a thrill through his heart, that he had denied even recognizing. And it made him remember that drunken moment he had carefully filed away for just such moments as this, when his world was imploding and it seemed like nothing would ever be right again. That moment when he had first kissed Anthony Edward Stark, billionaire, playboy, genius, and the love of Loki's life.

He remembered that taste like it was on his tongue right now. He remembered clutching at the inventor with all the might in his then-shaky, feeble body. He remembered wishing on all the shooting stars in the world, that that moment might last forever and take him away from the hell his life had become in something just short of an instant. And yes, that night had been ill-fated, and cursed by the constellations smiling above them. But it had been a beacon of light in the all-encompassing darkness.

Anthony had looked at him like he was worshiped. Anthony had treated him like a god, like something special in a good way, like something he had truly loved. And Loki had been stupid enough to fall for it- as the red lines on his arm reminded him. It had been stupid, dumb, reckless, and Loki had known it. He had done it anyways, being careless with his heart and placing it in irresponsible hands, hands that could so easily crush him.

And Loki _was_ crushed.

Loki was hurt.

Loki was broken.

And really, everything in his life hadn't been this magnificently fucked in a very long time. He missed knowing how to smile. Because, suddenly, all he knew how to do was cry.

* * *

Tony sat before the screen, watching the screensaver change every three seconds. It switched from picture to picture, torturing him and healing him with visions of him and Loki- happy, smiling, teasing, tickling, loving. There was pain in his chest like never before, nearly incapacitating him, making him stay still or be shot through the chest with agony.

It was the end.

Just a few more hours.

A picture of him and Loki, locked together, kissing, eyes closed, alone in their own world- came up on the screen as he moaned quietly in pain. It was the only sound in the big laboratory beneath the Stark mansion. A phone sat beside him. It's homescreen was decorated by another depiction of he and the one who truly owned his heart. Everywhere, there were pictures of he and Loki, reminding him of what he'd done, of what he'd lost.

He leaned back in his chair, dialing Pep's number. He could feel the power of the arc reactor start to flicker. He was losing the will to live, it was time to say goodbye. Even if Potts got here in time, no one could save him. It was a lost cause; only he and Yinsen alone knew the technology it took to save him. And even that was a temporary, illusive fix. It was over. The fighting was futile, the war between Tony and Death was lost.

She picked up on the second ring. He smiled, she had never missed his call. "Hey! Tony, I was just about to call you." Her voice seemed to be shaking, making him sit up in his chair and stare at the screen blankly, completely focused on what words would come out of her mouth next. "It's about Loki..." She trailed off, obviously hesitant.

Tony frowned, still gazing at the monitor before him. Loki was laughing, Tony's fingers roaming his body- a precious moment captured, frozen, secured for years to come. "What about Loki? Is he okay?" He hadn't the presence of mind to keep the panic from his voice. "What happened, Potts?" His heart was pounding, making an unbearable ache start deep in his chest.

"Well, yeah. I think so. It's just..." She paused, obviously choosing her words carefully. Tony bit his lip, closing his eyes and praying for Loki to be okay. It was all that mattered, now, in the last few moments of his life. "He's gone, Tony. He's on a plane to Europe. Thor just called me, he thought you should know. Actually-"

The voice in his ear disappeared, snatched from a hand suddenly paralyzed. His lungs slowed, his heart rate dropped. Everything achingly froze. Obadiah appeared in front of him, sitting on the desk and smiling at him malignantly. An evil twinkle colored his eyes. Tony fought to speak, but felt as if everything was weighed down and leaden. He couldn't move, barely breathing, barely functioning, even the blood in his veins slowed to a crawl. But his mind, that was moving at a speed he wasn't even sure he had ever attained before.

Obadiah waved a silver wand in front of his face. Tony hazily recognized it through the racing thoughts, rushing through his mind like a tidal wave. "Remember this, Tony? One of your best inventions. It's a shame it wasn't cleared for use by the military." He shook his head, opening a brief case beside him. Inside, Tony recognized some sort of gadget, which Stane placed over the arc reactor in his chest. "But this...This is your magnum opus, the goose's golden egg, per say." He chuckled, the gadget engaging the device and ripping it from its anchoring. Pain shot through him like a bullet. A groan drowned in his throat. "It's a shame you didn't want to share the technology with me. All of this could have been avoided." He shrugged. "Really, you should've been dead a year ago. Me and your father had you kidnapped, and Raza was supposed to kill you. But, as they say, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself." Obie stood. He walked behind Tony, and soon music flooded the laboratory.

_'Hey, I wanna crawl out of my skin, apologize for all my sins...'_

It was a song Loki had told him about when they first met. It had been on constantly when Loki was living with him right after the dorms burnt down. Tony had nearly forgotten it. Ironic, that it come on now, of all times.

_'All the things I should've said to you. Hey, I can't make it go away, over and over in my brain again, all the things I should've said to you...'_

"Oh, Tony, this is your ninth symphony." Obadiah held the glowing arc reactor in his hand, twisting it back and forth. Tony glared at him as best he could. Something warm was running out of his ear. Blood. One of the many reasons the short-term paralysis wand had been _"destroyed."_ Or so he thought. "You know, just because you have an idea, doesn't mean it belongs to you. Your dad gave us the atomic bomb. Now what kind of world would it be, if he had kept that knowledge all to himself?" Tony grit his teeth, the pain getting more unbearable by the second.

_'Counting stars, wishing I was okay; crashing down was my biggest mistake...'_

The song wove through his ears, reminding him of Loki's voice, giving him something to hold onto. It was like a pain-reliever.

_'I never, ever meant to hurt you, I only did what I had to. Counting stars again...'_

Oh, what he'd do to be able to tell Loki he was sorry. To explain. But he couldn't, the giant hole in his chest being one of the many reasons why.

_'Hey, I'll take this day-by-day, under the covers, I'm okay I guess...'_

And this song was so fabulously Loki, he could hardly think past the lyrics that reached his ear drums.

"Oh, Tony." Obadiah stood, shaking his head. "Too bad you hadn't died in the bomb a year ago. It would've made things so much easier on you. But, in restrospect, it worked much better for me." He stooped in front of Tony so they were eye-to-eye. Tony glared viciously. "Thank you, Tony. You've made me a very rich man."

_'Life's too short, and I feel small...'_

Tony watched him leave out of the corner of his eye, feeling some sensation start in the tips of his fingers. Everything in him was hopeless, except that tiny part of him that was screaming for him to get the fuck up because he had a beautiful, raven-haired boy to apologize to and live for. But he couldn't. He was bound down, tethered.

It was over.

His eyes looked back at that Christmas gift from Loki.

Or was it?

_'Counting stars, wishing I was okay. Crashing down was my biggest mistake. I never, ever meant to hurt you, I only did what I had to...Counting stars again...'_

* * *

__At the airport, Loki stood nervously beside Thor, his fingers threaded between Thor's. His hand was dwarfed by the older man's, making him feel even smaller and less insignificant than he already felt. This was a bad idea, he was leaving the only two people in this world that he truly loved- Thor Odinson, and Anthony Stark. But what other choice did he have?

"Brother, you must contact me as soon as you land." He was pulled to face very wet, very sorrowful cobalt eyes. Loki swallowed back the sob that arose in his throat. "I- I want to know you're okay. Please...please let me hear from you often." Not for the first time, Loki Laufeyson fell in love with his foster brother.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "Of course." His voice was husky, because in the past few days, he had leaned on his brother more than he had since he was sixteen years old. And he had needed that. He had needed to remember the Thor he had known when they were young and life was simpler- the Thor that had cleaned his wounds, kissed away his tears, and rocked him back to sleep after nightmares. "I'll make sure to call you once a week or so." He promised, squeezing the hand that was holding him so tightly it almost cut off the blood circulation in his fingers.

Thor averted his eyes, still holding him like he was his lifeline. "I don't want you to go." His voice was a wet, shaky reminder of the fact that, as hard as he may be, Thor had more of a heart than any man Loki had ever known. "I want you to stay. I want you here. I can keep you safe, I can keep that-that maniac away from you." His eyes hit Loki's again, a burning, fiery, passionate sapphire that Loki had only encountered once- and that once had been so long ago, he'd nearly forgotten it.

Thor had pretty much flipped his shit the morning after Loki and Anthony broke up, when Loki told him all that had happened after he left the party. If Loki hadn't physically restrained him...well, the inventor would probably be in the hospital with multiple broken bones and a concussion or shattered skull. Nevertheless, he had calmed down as soon as Loki explained that he was 'okay' and that he still loved Anthony far too much to let Thor harm him.

"I know, darling." Loki sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "But I must go. For me. You understand?" He spoke in a low, tender voice- for this once, he was the one babying Thor, not the other way around. "You know I have to do this, don't you?" Loki's doing that thing where you ask a question everyone in the god damn world knows the answer to, merely to prove a point.

Thor nodded dolefully. "I do." He sucked in a heavy breath. "But do you have to go so far?" And honestly, it's not like Loki's going halfway across the world. Just Europe. It's not a big deal, Thor.

Loki reminded himself that right now was the worst time in the world to roll his eyes. "Yes, I do. I have to start over. Between Thanos and Stark..." He shrugged. "It's time for a change of scenery." A big change of scenery, the kind that has a whole different country involved.

A lone tear slid down Thor's cheek- unbidden, no doubt, because when was crying in public ever acceptable for an Odinson?- and broke Loki's heart. He wiped it away with a thumb, causing Thor to look down at the floor. "I'll just miss you, that's all." Like it wasn't a big deal and like Thor wasn't totally breaking Loki's poor, abused heart.

Over the speakers, Loki heard his flight get called. "Darling, I must go." He whispered, very aware that Thor's semi-new girlfriend was watching, and listening, and that her pretty hazel eyes were glistening.

Before he could react, he was swept into a crushing hug that almost re-broke his ribs for the second time. "I love you, little brother." Thor's voice was husky and broken. Loki wrapped his arms around the man's neck and held him tightly, wishing for all the world that the man could come with him, that he could take him everywhere like the little lost puppy he resembled.

He was put back on his feet gently, and a kiss was placed at the side of his mouth, the beginnings of a beard tickling his face. "I love you too...brother." He winked, his hands trembling as he picked up his bags. "I'll call you, okay? And," He smirked. "Behave." He nodded once towards the young woman now holding Thor's hand consolingly.

Then he got in line, ticket in hand, to board the plane- ignoring the way his heart was breaking again and again and again.

* * *

__Obadiah Stane walked away from the Stark family mansion with a smile on his face and a brief case in his hand that held several billion dollars worth of technology. With this in his power, Stane could literally take over the world. Right now, he was the richest man in the world.

Dialing a number on his phone, he listened to the dialtone. "Hello?" A husky, accented voice answered.

"Raza, get my suit hooked up. I got it." He had shipped the man over a few months ago in preparation for this very moment. Now, was his time. And there was no irritating, arrogant Stark to stop him.

Now, Obadiah was getting what he deserved. And the whole world would be witnessing it.

* * *

The plane was rumbling beneath him as he put his head phones in. He skipped through a few party songs that he and Anthony had danced to over the last few weeks, until he got to his favorite song. Counting Stars by Sugarcult. He smiled softly, feeling his heart pick up pace a bit. He had listened to this song with Anthony countless times over the past few years, telling him how much he loved the lyrics, listening to the inventor sing them softly in his ear as he fell asleep.

_Hey, I wanna crawl out of my skin, apologize for all my sins, all the things I should have said to you. Hey, I can't make it go away, over and over in my brain again, all the things I should have said to you. Counting starsm wishing I was okay. Crashing down was my biggest mistake. I never, ever meant to hurt you, I only did what I had to. Counting stars again._

It was all like a dream now. All those times, hearing Anthony pour his very soul into whispered words that meant so much to them both.

_Hey, I'll take this day by day by day. Under the covers, I'm okay, I guess. Life's too short and I feel small. Counting stars wishing I was okay. Crashing down was my biggest mistake. I never, ever meant to hurt you, I only did what I had to. Counting stars again._

It occurred to Loki, that maybe Anthony only did what he had to.

Maybe they just weren't meant to be.

Maybe, this was for the best.

Or maybe, Loki was just reaching for hope, and coming up empty-handed.

New York City started to disappear beneath the clouds.

* * *

A/N:** The end, my lovelies. The next part of this series will be started very soon, so keep your eyes open for it. It'll be called Different Stars- a song by the Trespassors William. **

**To be honest, I'm completely in love with this site, with the people on it (you beautiful folks) and the opportunity to write and have it read by, you know, actual human beings. I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have xoxox.**

**Sorry for the sadistic cliffhanger. You guys know how I am by now xD. **

**Ugh. The Thor/Loki in this. I was seriously tearing up. -sniffles and starts sobbing-**

**Pleaseeeeee review. This is it, kiddos. The very last 'chapter' of Counting Stars. **

**I'm gonna end this now, because I'm actually crying. No joke.**

**I LOVE YOU ALLLLLLLLLLLLL. **

**~xoxox, Rayn. **


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